The dog is asleep on his back with his feet in the air and his teeth all out there. Also, he is on my lap. There is one baby upstairs asleep but the other one is jammed up against me snoring. Alouicious and Elphine are 'trying to earn back their allowance' by cleaning the kitchen, but really they are goofing off and talking. Romulus and Gladys are 'cleaning the sunroom'. All around me are piles of laundry I imagined I would do, along with shoes and bottles and bits of paper and toys and crayons and a lot of other...stuff is too nice a word. Matt is watching some thing about Scientology.And, of course, there is a heavy volume of snow falling out of the sky. Because what a fading upstate town exhausted by sickness and cold weather needs is more snow, and ice. I'm sorry that this blog has degenerated into one big long complaint about the weather. I'm generally a satisfied, happy, contentish type of person. Well, maybe happy is too strong. Not unhappy. But the long stupid snowy winter is proving too much for me today. We're all on our eleventh cold amongst other irritating ailments. Amd the walls are too close, the bickering too continuous, the pile of cleaning and laundry too tall. If only the snow would stick to the brick wall of the church. Otherwise, for real, I'm going to get out there and paint an Italian villa on it.