It’s Monday. It’s December the fourteenth and the word of the day is “rime”, which means frost formed on cold objects. When used in a sentence: “It was frigid enough for a rime to form on the tribble’s fur as it rested on Trump’s head.”
As you can imagine, the snow is sticking around. It’s cold. It feels a bit more like Christmas. So here’s a non-sucktacular seasonal song. Don’t worry: I’ll be back tomorrow with a longer post. But right now, let’s just take it easy on this first day of the work week.