Listen, I know that complaining about snow days is old hat by now. But it’s seriously all I’ve got. Because it’s all there is. Because it’s all I do. And all I’ll ever do. Until Spring. Which is never coming.
Just…toys. Everywhere. Evidence of an entire day spent in jammies. Firetruck just out of frame on the left. Elaborate Lego structures still set up in the middle of the dining room floor. Drawers full of art supplies half pulled out.
This is as close to the snow as I got today. Between pelting ice and sloppy rain, we just stayed in. Luckily for us, my wife is a shoveling force to be reckoned with (a force with which to reckon?) She has to work tomorrow, though, and has informed me that she and her 4-wheel-drive will just be powering over the additional 5-8″ we are due to get overnight. So, I suppose I’ll have to lady-up and get it done myself.
When you get denied the dirty car-bumper icicles (seriously; he tried to eat one of those) then I suppose the next best thing is a roof-icicle knocked off with a broomstick.
Last night was novel, when The Who was allowed to wake up after m* had gone to bed to decorate for her birthday. Tonight there will be no such “fun.”