Saturday, Early February, 12:14 p.m.

The expected snow never came. You might say I'm only happy when I'm with you or when I see a funny dog or think about kittens or California or the South Seas and Pippi Longstocking. I woke up wondering if your forehead was made of diamonds and if you still hated me for hating "Myth Busters," and I let you make the coffee very strong. Then you stretched up and curled your arms around like a kung fu monk and walked out of the room. I can still hear you in there. You are expanding yourself and taking big breaths.