Monday, December 20, 2004

The End of a Snow Day

What a day.

I understand the temperature will be above freezing tomorrow, so the snow will melt and the girls will go to school. Yippee!

Spoke to Mommy at the rehab facility and told her that the offspring had a snow day today. "I'll bet you loved that," she said.

"I'm so tired of those children and their nonsense, I'd like to push them out in the snow," I said.

"Oh, yes," she said. "I remember days like that!"

She won't be discharged for Christmas after all. Daddy will take her out for dinner Christmas Eve, bring her back, and then we'll take her out for dinner again on Christmas. Sibling One says, "What's the point of bringing her home if she can't stand up yet, and Daddy can't lift her."

She's right, of course. I just hate the idea of Mom spending Christmas in that place. Its "public bathroom" has a roach motel in it the size of my arm.

The children are in bed. The husband is in bed. Sweet freedom.

Peter ran to the post office this evening, so there's one less thing to worry about. I just remembered I have a sack of books in the closet that were due back at the library on Saturday, though.


I don't know why Everybody Loves Raymond has a reputation for being wholesome entertainment. Those people are so mean to each other.

Now I Understand What Mick Jagger was Talking About

Christmas vacation is not supposed to start until Friday, leaving me one whole week to fill with activities to keep the children happy, stimulated and out of my hair. I planned to use this week to write the script for my final radio show, which tapes on Wednesday, and to do some desperately-needed food shopping. The cupboards are bare.

But today is a snow day!

So the offspring are here, making demands to go shopping ("We're bored!"), messing up the kitchen with their attempts at combining oatmeal with baking chips, blaring the television, etc.

B came along with his snowplow, so now I can actually get out of the driveway to go to the supermarket, although I'm not sure what shape the roads are in. The town is usually good about clearing them before morning rush hour, but they've fallen down on the job this time.

I have three packages to take to the post office, too, one of which is going to England. Another is going to Indiana and really must be there by Friday.

Okay, here comes Child Two, tramping into the house in her snowy boots after I explicitly told her that she is to remove them in the garage and come up through the basement.

Am I speaking Swahili?