Not Sorry

Tomorrow is Sunday. Well, today's probably Sunday for you. (You're living in the future. Isn't that neat?) 

After nearly a week of being snowed in, we're headed to church in the morning. Sunday's a day of rest and everything, but it's more like a half day after a morning of wrangling and hustling and scrubbing two kids. But we're headed out nonetheless. Into this: 

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Ok, just kidding. This is Kentucky, guys. We got about a foot of snow last Monday, and our sweet meteorologist kept saying, "I'm not trying to scare you. Please don't panic." And we got plenty of snow, and I was thrilled! 

But this is the South. We literally have one snow plow in our little town, so you can imagine how stuck we were. I'm thinking maybe next time I'll do a shorter snow dance. Or maybe only wear my pajama pants backwards. Or maybe not. 

I do love snow.

Anyway, our roads are really more like this: 

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And I'm only hyperventilating a little bit over the idea of crashing into the ground and breaking myself again. (I don't miss the pain meds, for real. You know how people are either totally normal or spaced out, half-asleep zombies when they take those things? Guess which one I am.)

Anyway, I definitely need that whole peace thing tomorrow. And I hope it's an easy walk to the church doors. Those dang ramps. . . *grumble*

If you happen to be snowed in tomorrow, enjoy your Sabbath at home in pajamas. I'm not currently forced by winter to be a hermit (*sniff*), so mine will be at church in boots and jeans. After all, jeans are more restful than skirts but not as inappropriate as pajama pants. 

And that's the moral of the story.

Sorry about that, 
Becki