It's snowing today. A is upset, because it's her birthday and she doesn't want to get snowed in, and Mr. Bill is absolutely furious. He hates the snow; in fact, every time the weather is not to his liking he considers it a personal insult meted out by a vengeful god, namely me, and snow is the worst possible weather he can imagine. He is now sitting under the kitchen table, howling his despair to the world, which is loud. The kitchen table is one of those small metal restaurant equipment jobbies and it amplifies his anguish quite nicely. About every 20 minutes he demands to go back outside, and then comes back in five minutes later, covered with snow and wailing. Poor Mr. Bill. Poor A. And poor me, because the CD drive seems to have stopped working completely, which puts a damper on the useful way I planned to spend today, namely, ripping my entire CD collection to the hard drive. Drat.