buford the little big horn
There's no end to the firsts in a marriage, provided it lasts any length of time. Today's first? I salted the sidewalk because Mr Moth fell on it.
I wasn't going to join the throngs complaining about this season's unholy weather, because surely all that needs said about it has been and is being said, but...BUT... OMG, MR MOTH FELL ON ICE.
He is part mountain goat; I even used to call him Buford. If I have to walk on ice I hang onto him because he just DOES NOT FALL. It's only happened twice before in the last ten years, once because he was upset (and that was only snow, and he didn't fall all the way down but missed a step he couldn't see in a drift) and then this time, because he was in a hurry. His feet shot out from under him and he went airborne, landed flat on his back some distance from the steps (thank the cosmos.) He dropped his (last! oh nozes!) Pepsi and foam spewed from the can, freezing instantly. It's still out there. I would have taken a picture, but my phone's battery quit halfway down the sidewalk.
So he laid there for a while, until it occurred to him he might freeze, then he got up and went to the Mothmobile, whereupon he couldn't find his keys. Assuming he locked them in the truck, he came back in to get my set but couldn't find them because they were not on my desk where they always are unless they are in my purse, which was not on the desk or the exercise bike or slung over the back of the kitchen chair like it always is. So he woke me up so I could tell him my purse was slung over the back of my kitchen chair (but I had craftily hid it by hanging my quilted flannel hoodie over it.
I forgot to ask why he didn't just take the spare spare key from the spare spare key hiding place. Maybe he's forgotten about the spare spare keys and I should remind him.
Anyhow he opened his truck and...no keys. He eventually located them at the bottom of a previously unnoticed hole in the snow and dug them out.
The snow is gone now, except where it is stuck to ice.
I'm surely glad for Christmas break. I wonder if Berta will even start? We're fat people, we gotta eat, even if it means hooking Oliver to a washtub and sledding to Kroger. Mush, kitty! Mush!
Brrr.
P.S. Everyone should read Buford to their kids once in life, and if you don't have kids, read it to yourself because it's just that cute. We read it about 80,146,912,775 times growing up, and loved it every time.
I wasn't going to join the throngs complaining about this season's unholy weather, because surely all that needs said about it has been and is being said, but...BUT... OMG, MR MOTH FELL ON ICE.
He is part mountain goat; I even used to call him Buford. If I have to walk on ice I hang onto him because he just DOES NOT FALL. It's only happened twice before in the last ten years, once because he was upset (and that was only snow, and he didn't fall all the way down but missed a step he couldn't see in a drift) and then this time, because he was in a hurry. His feet shot out from under him and he went airborne, landed flat on his back some distance from the steps (thank the cosmos.) He dropped his (last! oh nozes!) Pepsi and foam spewed from the can, freezing instantly. It's still out there. I would have taken a picture, but my phone's battery quit halfway down the sidewalk.
So he laid there for a while, until it occurred to him he might freeze, then he got up and went to the Mothmobile, whereupon he couldn't find his keys. Assuming he locked them in the truck, he came back in to get my set but couldn't find them because they were not on my desk where they always are unless they are in my purse, which was not on the desk or the exercise bike or slung over the back of the kitchen chair like it always is. So he woke me up so I could tell him my purse was slung over the back of my kitchen chair (but I had craftily hid it by hanging my quilted flannel hoodie over it.
I forgot to ask why he didn't just take the spare spare key from the spare spare key hiding place. Maybe he's forgotten about the spare spare keys and I should remind him.
Anyhow he opened his truck and...no keys. He eventually located them at the bottom of a previously unnoticed hole in the snow and dug them out.
The snow is gone now, except where it is stuck to ice.
I'm surely glad for Christmas break. I wonder if Berta will even start? We're fat people, we gotta eat, even if it means hooking Oliver to a washtub and sledding to Kroger. Mush, kitty! Mush!
Brrr.
P.S. Everyone should read Buford to their kids once in life, and if you don't have kids, read it to yourself because it's just that cute. We read it about 80,146,912,775 times growing up, and loved it every time.