It is snowing, but I am proposing that we go to an open flee market. My beloved is not enthusiastic. “What,” she squints at me at some point, “you need a text?”

Addendum (February 13, 2012)

As my beloved is well aware, I sometimes go through quite a bit only to get a chance to write about it. “I live to write,” I sometime confess my woeful weakness. This time around, though, this was not the case. Far from it. I only wanted to see our favorite flee market covered with snow. A few merchants I thought we would find there would be of special interest. As would be a few intrepid visitors, some of whom might even buy something or other out of sheer pity. At any rate, I kept mum about all this. “No need to go anywhere,” I laughed mysteriously instead, “I have a text already!” My beloved only squinted at me once again and pursed her lips in mock anger when I showed her what I had written. By then, it was posted on the World Wide Web, too.