My Dear Public,

It is cold today, and the clouds lie heavy and oppressive over my small farm. The wind blows furiously.

I am indoors. It is not my problem.

I look out across the road, my eyes falling on a tree whipped by the wind. It is losing branches to this onslaught of rushing air.

I am indoors. It is not my problem.

Motion, organic motion, catches my eye. A robin, tricked out of his slumber, staggers slowly across the lawn.

I am indoors. This is a problem.

If only doorknobs were made for those without thumbs.

Ever thine,

Marvin Quincy Longbody-Horriblekitten