Drop

The snow level is only supposed to get down to 2500 feet, but the night is so cold that I wouldn't be surprised if (assuming that the leaden sky we saw this evening decides to drop anything at all on us) it goes lower. I keep looking outside to see if any white flakes are falling. It's dead silent out there, so I know there's no rain falling.

I have to keep checking on the old people, too, of course, to make sure they are still breathing, but I have to do that every night.

There's no need to keep checking on Portia, as she's currently sticking her claws into my knees, adding new puncture wounds to those she's already inflicted.

Life is interesting... in a way.