Chattering teeth

I usually go out and prowl the yard before shutting down the house for the night and heading computerwards and to bed. Check on stars, track a jet or two across the sky, keep a wary eye out for skunks, that sort of thing.

Well, we still have wind. And the temperature seems to be dropping like a rock from that cold moon. In other words, "wind chill" has returned to the Maine vocabulary.

***And no, I am _not_ posting this at 2:55 AM...

In honor of the day

When the doors between the world of humans and the world of spirits swings wide -- time to go over and measure up that Stephen King Memorial EPA Laundry site, obviously.

And I'm not sure _what_ I did, fiddling around with LJ settings, but I finally got this bloody "Update Journal" function to recognize Eastern Standard Time rather than GMT/UTC...

We'll see if it sticks.

Graveyard chill

That EPA-site building hasn't been heated in maybe ten-fifteen years, you can see daylight through the roof in a few dozen places, and pigeons have claimed what used to be the boiler room. Ambient temperature is 44 F and we dipped into the 20s last night.

I came home and thawed out a chunk of pea soup for lunch.

Locusts

A plague of Biblical proportions.

We handed out over 200 pieces of candy this evening, one per kid, and shut down the operation at 6:30 with plenty of ravening hordes (6 to 8 kids per horde) still pillaging the neighborhood.

Things have gotten out of hand. Judging by the road out front, folks were busing the bastards in...

Where's Freddy Krueger when you really need him?

(Or whoever the "Halloween" franchise ogre was -- I never saw any of the movies.)