It’s Monday and my teacher husband is home because of the snow. It’s tempting to take a break from everything and just veg, but the problem is, this isn’t the first, second, or even third snow day he’s had this winter. If we were to continue to take days off whenever he was out of school, the kids and I would be doing work well into the summer, and nobody–but nobody–wants that around here.
So we’ll carry on, albeit a little languidly, and perhaps in our pajama pants. I admit I secretly love when nature ruins our carefully laid plans, not on a grand scale where there’s devastation and permanent damage, but on a small one.
I look out in the yard and the dogs are bouncing high through cold powder, and everything is so white it hurts my eyes. And here we are inside, slow, our stomachs full of Cheerios. The snow will not allow us to hurry, and I’m grateful.