Day of the Groundhog

"Honey, are you awake?" Cayley nudged Phil.

"No," Phil replied. "For crying out loud, it's the middle of winter"

"That is just the point, Phil," insisted Cayley. "We are halfway through our winter stores. Are we going to make it to Spring?"

"You worry about this every year. We've always made it -- come back here and snuggle with me."

"We need to plan and ration for the duration. We need to know how much more winter there is going to be this year."

"Do you know how much snow I dig through every year to give you a prediction? Do you know how cold it is out there in February? No, of course not. Every year it's 'Phil, go take a look' while you stay snugly buried in the warm burrow."

"Oh, c'mon, Phil, go take a look. I'll warm you up when you get back."

Resignedly, Phil arose. "For you, dear, 'cause I love you," he said aloud, albeit half-heartedly. "And 'cause you aren't going to stop until I do," he muttered to himself.

For the next half-hour, Phil dug slowly upwards, dozing off briefly a couple of times until he heard Cayley calling out below. He broke through to the surface, stood up, and looked around. Then he retreated to the burrow, collapsing the temporary tunnel behind him.

"Well?" asked Cayley.

"They had on heavy coats, but it was sunny enough that at least half were unbuttoned. Six more weeks until Spring. Now can we go back to bed?"