The kids have a delayed opening (at least) for school tomorrow, but are doing anything but celebrating. Instead, they are cringing and whinging at the thought of all the shoveling that must be done. Again. At this rate, they're all going to move to Arizona -- but perhaps not Flagstaff -- as soon as they are emancipated.
During the last snowstorm, as we were clearing off the ramp into my LSH's office at 8 pm for the third time that day, Primo was grumbling about how much he hated snow and shoveling, and just where were his younger brothers hiding to avoid the work yet again? And then he asked me, "Why are we shoveling? Why don't you just start up the snowblower?"
I pointed out that we don't OWN a snowblower, though I am asking for one for my birthday (which will guarantee that we never see this much snow again).
He groaned, "You mean that was just a dream?'
Yep. And you know that things are pretty pathetic when you are dreaming about snowblower acquisition at fourteen years of age.
Snow fort built during the last snowstorm
(I think; I'm losing track at this point)