from the Jill Schwartz Memorial Library here in the wilds of Connecticut

Kitt. This is obscure season four in American tragedy. I'm your host, your friend, your ear lover,

and literary mansplainer-in in chief, Michael Ian Black.

More snow.

I mean, I feel like the last several episodes we've just been talking about the snow

because it's persistent.

It defies all instructions to withdraw, and it continues to persist.

I had another big dump, big white dump the other night,

which I love. Who am I kidding? I love a good snowstorm. And I was, as we were heading to bed,

you know, snowing and I was thinking to myself, oh gee, I hope it's still snowing when we wake up

because I like to see the snow flags coming down. Pow, like feathers after a pillow fight. I like looking at that. And then lo and behold, it's 7 o'clock in the a.m. I open my eyes and there it is. Snowing, snowing, snowing. And it just, it warms the heart even if it doesn't warm the feet. I don't know why it warms the heart, but there's, there's something snugly about a snowstorm, I guess.

The idea of inclement weather keeping us inside and warm and jigsaw puzzling and all the rest of it.

So it was, it was fun to have a blizzard.

Apparently we're having another one soon, or not a blizzard, but another snowstorm.

And then I suspect winter will slowly subside into spring. New growth will sprout. And with it, hay fever. So we've got that to look forward to.

I'm recording this on a Wednesday morning, very

late in the week for me to be recording an episode of Obscure, but I got an email from Robin saying,

where's the episode? And the thought occurred to me, what episode? Because in my head, I had

had this thought, which was, did I record this week? And I think I had this thought on Monday.

And then the thought was, yep, yes, I sure did.

No, I did not.

So it's a Wednesday morning.

...