This is the same parking lot where the flying rats were perched the day before, waiting for the storm. Jim informs me that flying rats are pigeons, not seagulls.
The word for yesterday was caterwauling, the noise that Jim raised when I informed him that he would have to tack up the tarp after it had partially blown off in the blizzard, shortly after he informed me that flying rats were pigeons.
We received 6-60 inches of snow depending on how the wind blew. At dawn the wind continued to blow, making the woodstove the place to be in front of.
A vodka martini costs 8-9 points depending on the number of olives. That and a fire in the woodstove will soothe any caterwauling blizzard or whining human.
How many pigeons has Jim seen swarming the landfill? Kleptoparasitic, mobbing, ground-dwelling...seagulls sound like flying rats to me. Perhaps Jim was raised among Mormons and considers seagulls as kindly locust-eating saviors. And nice gaiters, red-legs.
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