The chill wind of change

Sitting in my office, or my orifice as Mrs. Ottawacker calls it with increasing regularity, it's hard to concentrate on the more technical translations I have been working on of late. 

Wondering which way it is all going to go down South. Is Darth Satsuma finally on his way to the chair? Will he pardon his family and himself and then disappear in a puff of smoke up his own arsehole, having finally defeated the laws of the universe?

So I walked to the top of the stairs and drew back the curtain. Where I was confronted by one of the icicles the man with no underpants on told me I would no longer get. 

Earlier, during the enforced reading of Harry Potter & the Philosopher's Stone, I had to explain the difference between "stalagmites" and "stalactites" to Ottawacker Jr.

"Easy," I said, with a giggle. "The tights come down."

Then I had to explain what that meant and why it was funny. Which I was, apparently, unable to do.