Remember that time that Kansas was under literal feet of snow when we were supposed to be moving out and I almost starved to death?
The saga continues.
So there I was, home alone, minding my own business because like a genius I’d already cancelled the satellite and didn’t have anything to do BUT mind my business when I heard the sound of footsteps on the front porch. I froze, half terrified it was a zombie, half hopeful it was Meals on Wheels.
I froze, because I knew I’d been spotted. See?
And reality was so much worse than zombies. It was a dude in a ski mask. Legit. Like that scene in Fargo.
But my momma raised a lady with manners, so like an idiot I answered the door. He was actually very nice and apologetic about his appearance.
Masked stranger/likely murderer: “I know I must look like a monster, but wanted to offer to plow your driveway.”
Me: “NO!” ~slams door, runs away and hides under covers~
Where was my trusty sidekick/protector? The people want to know.
Saturday was my poor husband’s birthday. Before admitting that I had neither a gift or a card for him, I feel it necessary to remind you that I’d been snowed in for DAYS, almost starved, had a near-murdered experience, and also suffered from boredom due to lack of HGTV.
Somehow none of those things stopped my mom (that shower-upper) from making him his favorite treat – a sour cream raisin pie.
Some of my favorite FB comments after sharing this picture: “Did your mom make him the sun?!”, ”Do sour cream raisin pies normally glow in the dark?”, “He must be older than he looks because that pie is on FIAH!”.
To thank them for celebrating his birthday so sweetly, we kicked them out of their bedroom and moved into it. Then D left for Texas for two weeks. ~le weep~
Junior is bunking with me for the duration and nap time in the transition has proved… tricky.
Don’t mind if I do…
The look of sweet victory.
D? Lack of birthday festivities on my part in no way reflect my feelings towards you. I still think you’re the bees knees and I’ve got some big impressive birthday plans in the cooker for when you get back – hopefully sans snow. Miss you and love you!
Wifey of the Year