I have been in severe denial for the last six years (since we moved here from Sunny SoCal) about the wardrobe needs for living in a state with winter. I don't own my own snow boots. You'd think I would've learned my lesson after last year, but no. Greg had boots, so I'd just borrow his when I needed to - or I just stayed inside, whatever. He bought new boots for this winter and I just planned on continuing to borrow them.
Except today he wore them to work. AAAAAARRRRGGHHHHHH. How dare he wear "my" boots to work?! I could just wear the old boots, but the sole of one of them is barely hanging on by a thread. Do you think LL Bean at the Mall in Columbia makes deliveries?
I really want to head down to The Little French Market for the snowball fight & snowman contest. That's where my oldest is since she spent the night at Nathan's house. But the lack of boots isn't the only thing holding me back. Our parking lot hasn't been plowed yet. Usually they are right on top of that, but when the plow arrived at o'dark thirty there were cars parked willy-nilly all over the place so it couldn't even get in. Greg and some neighbors dug a path out so he was able to go to work, but he didn't bother with my van that was parked across the lot from his car.
I could shovel it myself - but then the little girls would be free to roam about the house on their own and nothing good ever comes of that.
Alright, I guess I have to move on to step one: Get out of pajamas.