Deana Is The Boss Of Me

<<WTF dude?  Post already.>>

Isn't Deana so sweet?  She guilted me into posting.  But I have nothing to say.  Actually, I have tons to say, but no motivation to type.  My current excuse is that we're in the midst of a snow event.  Schools have been closed for the past two days because we got about 3 1/2 inches of snow Tuesday morning.  It doesn't snow too often here and we don't have the resources to get rid of the snow.  And they won't salt the roads because GOD FORBID it gets into the runoff water and affects the salmon.  (As Amy said, "Isn't that called lox?") 

 Ritu had to put chains on his car just to get to the grocery store this morning.  I, of course stayed home with the kids.  We did walk over to a friend's house for a few hours this afternoon, but now we're home awaiting the forecasted freezing rain.  My children are going to be morons by the end of the week.  And I'll most likely be in jail. 

Here's a picture of our snowy backyard and greenspace:

It is lovely, no doubt.  And I do adore a snow day.  I love being forced to stay home all day, with a hot cup of coffee and a book to read.  Only the reality doesn't play out quite that way.  The kids are in and out of the house all day long, tracking in snow and slush.  My dryer is constantly running with the latest discarded pair of gloves or socks.  This necessitates me dragging my lazy ass off the couch so often that my coffee gets cold and my book goes unread.  And let's face it, the romance of the snow wears off after one day. 

Ritu was home for this whole storm.  That's unusal in and of itself.  For the most part, whenever we get bad weather, he's either atwork or at a conference in some sunny, warm spot.  In fact, he spent most of last week in Florida.  It didn't get above freezing for five days in a row here, so our conversations went like this:

Me:  How was your day today?

Him:  Pretty good.  I was in meetings all day, but then I went and got a massage and had drinks by the pool, since it's 84 degrees.

Me:  That sounds nice.  (My Brain:  Awesome.  It was 26 degrees here and I spent yet another day answering every stupid question your children asked, nagging them through every assigned task, and doing every bit of cleaning up there was to do.  I hate you and everything you stand for.  Never utter the words massage, drinks, or pool again.)

Is it even necessary to insert here that last week was PMS week?

(Ok, Deana, are you happy now?  I'll try to be better at posting.  Just be prepared for quantity over quality!)