So, this past weekend I posted this on our Facebook page:
And I was kidding. ONLY NOT REALLY.
Why does all the bad shit have to happen when the husband is at work and hundreds of miles away?
The day after he left for work, we got dumped on. Like, really dumped on with a foot of snow, and below that a thick layer of ice. I haven’t left my house since Friday, and to be honest, that was a complete fail of an attempt. I was almost in tears and the kids were begging for us to turn around and go back home, as we slid around on the skating rink road. Luckily, we managed to make it safely back to our garage without killing ourselves or anyone else, but that doesn’t mean I am overly eager to give it another try.
Maybe my dogs didn’t run away {it’s too cold}, but they sure as hell are loving playing in all this snow and tracking it in for the baby to eat off the floor as she crawls around behind them. Hey! Snow cones, everywhere! Best day ever! Did I mention that it’s also too cold for them to venture out in the yard very far to pee, so our back porch is covered with a beautiful, glistening yellow snow?
Why is it the kids wait to get the stomach flu until the husband is driving down the road? Heaven forbid that they actually get sick when I have backup! I guess I should just be thanking my lucky starts that I’m not taking care of a husband with the stomach flu? We all know that sick husbands are far worse than sick children.
Excuse me while I head out and plow my driveway, shovel the sidewalk, order groceries online, and nurse the sickies. Don’t get too excited, though, husband. I’m saving the broken garbage disposal for you when you go on days off. If I can stand the stench that long…
