So, Tuesday night our heat went out. Thursday night it came back on, with the assistance of 2 furnace technicians and some frantic prayers to Saint Maurus. (He is the patron saint of charcoal burners. He is also against cold weather, throat problems, and gout. He seemed perfect for the job.) The 2 days and 2 (very cold) nights in between are not something I want to relive, except to point out that a queen bed was not made to hold 2 awkward parents, 3 super kids, 6 blankets, and 2 cats. You will be warm but you won't sleep. Unless you enjoy sleeping half-off the bed with a foot in your face and a cat on your spleen. Needless to say, we all slept like rocks last night, in our own beds, with minimal feet to the face.
The upside to all this living in an ice box is the freedom to dress any ol' way you please. Way too cold for pride, so comfort rules the day. Luckily for you, no one decided to take a picture of me in my "hobo finery," but the Supers were more than happy to model these stunning sartorial statement separates.
Saint Servatus' help before long, but I digress. Super P.'s cold-wear consisted of donning a dapper sweater and calling it a day. Some of us are just more warm-blooded than others, I guess.
St. Paul the Hermit. I think we all know what side of that sartorial divide you want to be on.
Fear not, Readers. All is warm and Super Toddler actually put on a shirt today. He balked at pants, but baby steps, Readers. Baby steps; they'll get there.
Now that Awkward Mom's fingers are thawed and she can type again, get ready. We did pictures at Sears again; here's a taste:
Epic, Readers. The next post shall be epic. Stay tuned!