Wet blanket

Perhaps it was not such a great idea to leave my laundry out overnight. I woke up to a clothesline--and city--covered in a fluffy blanket of snow. My cashmere sweater is frozen in a Frankenstein pose.

Not surprisingly, Larisa is in a tizzy. Under no circumstances will she now go to the ballet because 1. It's dangerous (never mind that we can walk three blocks to the Metro, then be underground until we're 10 meters from the theater's front door). 2. She can't get her hair "painted" beforehand and 3. She refuses to go out in public without wearing crazily high heels.

I'm still going, of course. Midwesterners aren't scared by a little snow. I just hope that the ballerinas won't twist an ankle on their way to the matinee.

Keep in mind that my going to the ballet today doesn't necessarily mean I'll be able to make it to the office tomorrow. I mean, come on--it's dangerous.