A Hard Rain

The dry spell that had given Puget Sound frost in October snapped last night with a vengeance, just as the East Coast returns began to trickle down the CNN crawl.  Hoping to restrict my yard work sessions to match the bi-weekly yard waste pickup schedule, I had neglected to clean out the gutters last weekend when they were filled with dry, crunchy leaves and pine needles.  Now I have to climb the ladder in the wet and scoop out cold slimy handfuls of Pacific Northwest potage.  Lying in bed this morning and hearing the steady white noise of our fiberglass porch roof withstanding the onslaught, I was similarly reluctant to get up and read the election results.  But I did, because I’m a grownup, right?  And, just as I’ll endure the freezing damp in my extremities this weekend, this morning I sat through the eructative gloating of Trent Lott and Tim Eyman (and the tone-deaf babbling of Patty Murray) with an Ecclesiastical resolve.

In the lemonade-from-lemons department, at least we’ll get a break from the triangulating appeasement of McAuliffe, Daschle, Gephardt and crew.

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