I’m sorry if this post was boring. They can’t all win a Pulitzer.

In this post: Practically nothing.

SUNDAY, 6 P.M. We’re still ice-bound in north Texas and I can’t think of anything to write about. I’ve basically been sitting around the house like a slug since I got out of bed this morning with the exception of an afternoon nap on the chaise, during which I reclined for four hours under a fake mink blanket named Mister Furry. I didn’t even bother with a normal lunch and opted instead for insulin and potato chips. (Don’t call the diabetes police. I had a craving, okay?) I honestly don’t know if Sam ate anything at all today, although I vaguely remember watching him toast a bagel. Or maybe that was yesterday.

10:45 P.M. Still nothing much to report other than a repeat of last night’s FREEZING FOG ADVISORY, this time in effect until 10 a.m. Monday, that will layer another sheet of ice on top of the ice we’ve already got. In other local news, I had eggs and low-carb rye bread for dinner, watched Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948) starring Cary Grant and Myrna Loy, and now it’s time for a nice bowl of Hi-Lo low-carb cereal and some TV time with Sam. I’m sorry if this post was boring. They can’t all win a Pulitzer.