Heavy Ice and Deep Thoughts

Jo and I woke up yesterday to a world covered with ice - and no power. The ice was beautiful - crystal clear and very thick.
So thick that it weighed down everything in sight. We heard lots of branches snapping all morning, and I got to watch a big branch break off one of our tall white pines - and crush a smaller sapling on the way down to the ground.
Jo especially liked the way all the junk on our deck looked, encased in ice. I thought the chairs were especially pretty. I'm not sure you can see it in the photo below, but the whole underside of this chair is dripping with icicles. Very cool.
So no school and no power. That means no heat, so Jo and I were"trapped" in the very small living room where we could huddle near the fire. We read some books, played some games, drew in our sketchbooks, and nibbled on snacks from the pantry. Jo helped out by giving me a backrub while I struggled to start a fire. (Alan is the fire master.) Jo also drove me insane with her constant chatter. Here's a sample. . .
Jo: "Emma, [that's the cat] you're a fartbutt."
me: nothing
Jo: "Mommy - did you hear that? I called Emma a fartbutt! Ha ha ha! That's so funny! I called Emma a fartbutt! Did you hear that Mommy?"
me: groan

And then, at the end of the day while we snuggled under a blanket in the firelight and watched night fall with no lights or candles on inside, Jo comes out with this. . .
Jo: "Mommy?"
me: "Yes Jo?"
Jo: "I don't think this is really our house."
me: Hmm. I'm thinking that this actually makes sense in a way. This is a mobile home very badly abused by the people who rented it before we bought it. The sellers had to remove (and burn) all the floor coverings and only half of the plumbing works. We haven't unpacked all of our boxes from the move last April. This isn't really our home - it's just the place we live while we build our dream home. But I don't think this is where Jo is going, so I say, "What do you mean Jo?"
Jo: "I think this is actually a clone of our house and we can't tell the difference."
Huh. How can the person who's unbelievably tickled by the word "fartbutt" also ponder cloning and (sort of) alternate realities by firelight? She's a mystery. And I mean that in the best way possible.