Clearly Mother Nature has underestimated our newly-minted intrepid reporter.
Uh… he knows math!
There are not 24 inches of snow out there and, as the darkness envelopes the newly fallen whiteness, Marshal is being totally pissy and he refuses to do his last report.
He said something about taking his squeaker lobster and going home, but he is home, so I don’t know where he is going (but he says that it is not back ‘out’).
So I called in the reserves.
Journalism is a field far beneath that of a royal princess, but looking fabulous against wintery backdrops? Well…
She nailed it.
Thanks for readin’.
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