We didn’t get a very good sleep. All night long, the wind was plying the trees and testing for loose roofing shingles, flinging garbage cans and neighborhood Christmas decorations, causing much fitful tossing, not to mention frequent turning. Giant Hawaiian waves were crashing on our front sidewalk, and jumbo jets were making unusually low passes overhead. Someone in our yard was throwing sheet after sheet of sheet of old-fashioned peppermints at our bedroom window. It felt like a full-blown icicane (short for “ice hurricane”) which may yet become a useful word thanks to the new weather.

At one point, I was in the back seat of my mom’s station wagon as she drove along, and you know there’s nothing she hates more while driving than bees in the car. Well what should I spot in the rear window, partially hidden by the curtains, but a bumblebee! Two bumblebees, actually — a big one, plus a little one that had its beak open to eat like a baby bird. Taking the matter into my own feet, I threw several karate kicks at the insects, paddling their tiny tennis ball bodies with my bare soles.

This kicking in bed woke Amy up briefly.

Increasingly, I had the impression that giant Norelco shavers were probably shearing the landscape completely bare, and that come morning, we would be wise to begin building underground cities where we can live out our natural lives as pale, pink-eyed molemen and molewomen who get plenty of solid rest.

Yesterday afternoon, we went for a walk around the loop at Petrifying Springs Park, because it was about 48 degrees out on the Fahrenheit scale. This morning the temperature is 3. We may not have experienced a pneumonia front, but you can definitely feel the change.

Upon finally getting out of bed at 5:00 with echoes of the New England ice storm tinkling in my head, my first mission was to assess the damage and determine the best way to signal rescuers.

Amazingly, however, our neighborhood appeared to be largely intact in the dark before the dawn — save for about a quarter-inch of white glazing over all of the pavement. It’s hard, gently rippled ice — perfect for pratfalls and spinouts.

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