I went out a couple of hours ago to take a little walk through the neighborhood, once the sleet had gone all the way over to snow and it was sticking pretty well. First thing I did was go around back to see if Lucy was outside or had barricaded herself in the basement against the advancing glaciers.
She was, in fact, just venturing out into the yard when I got around to the back, and she was definitely not so sure about this cold, wet white stuff on the ground. When she saw me she acted glad to see me as usual—but I could tell she thought I must be out of my mind to be outside in this stuff by choice.
She politely refrained from demanding to accompany me on my meanderings. I wonder why.