The sky and ground are the same glowing gray as more snow sifts onto an already-lush, pallid, blanket. Headlights of cars pass like sparks in this quiet mid-afternoon.
Quiet, but not silent. In each inhabited room of my house, electric heaters whoosh or hum, lending localized warmth and comfort.
The furnace is still out.
The needed part didn't come Friday, or today: Maybe next week.
I'm rather looking forward to that.
Still, it could be worse: it's almost 40 degrees warmer outside now, than it was earlier in the week.
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