Okay, so maybe this is the last one. Maybe. Hopefully. Please?
I'm finally feeling better, and it's just in time for Spring! Ah glorious Spri-- what? I missed it? Summer already? Okay, maybe you're right, because it WAS 80 degrees yesterday. Mind you we had a snowstorm last week, and it was awesome!
I know, I know, I hate cold weather. But I love snow! Even more I love not living in snow! It means instead of having to contemplate shoveling your driveway and scraping off your car, and how to get out of the house, you just go home, find something warm and waterproof to wear and you run around like an idiot, flailing yourself around in what we Southerners pitifully consider snowfall. (We actually got like 4 or 6 inches, which is unbelievable, really. Especially for the first week of March.)
Oh, and you must also perform your Southern civic duty to go to the grocery store and buy milk and bread. Not soup. Not something hot and wet to warm your poor freezing body while the temperature outside drops below and out of sight of what we could normally call cold here. No, of course not, that would be silly. I'm not sure why this is standard, but somehow it seems to call out to your soul to perform this action. At least it did mine, and apparently two-thirds of my zip code population as well. I somehow managed to get out without buying bread, but the milk was a must-have for some reason.
Cutezilla sat in the buggy (Southern for "grocery cart" for you non-Southerners) while I loaded the car, and huge clumps of the stuff were falling from the sky covering us both. She laughed and giggled but we weren't equipped to stay out, and she was snotty, so we went home and watched it from the house.
But yesterday, we went outside, and it's really shorts weather out there. We even went to the zoo, and it was a perfect day, all in all.
Today is my day off! So it's even better! But somehow instead of reeling in the joyous celebration of my emancipation from all things baby, I am doing laundry. LOTS of laundry. I even have a whole load of PINK. How did I get to this point in my life?