When it rains in Charlottesville, it really rains. In St. Louis we always say, if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes/an hour/a day; (there are variations) it’ll change.
Not so, Virginia. When it rains here, it pours for awhile, then it drizzles, followed by more pouring, more drizzling, and so on. For. Days. Did we accidentally move to Seattle? Do I just notice this more because I have more windows and we no longer have a garage?
Anyway, today, due to the rain, the boy is being cheated out of a marching competition, cancelled, due to the weather. The second competition, this evening, may move to the gym, which may or may not work. Joy.
I am also sick for the 13th day and getting ready to take another trip to St. Louis. More joy, as I’m sure my fellow airplane passengers will enjoy my frightful hacking for the entire flight. What is it with this cold? I can’t seem to kick it. I spent the second Saturday in a row sweating and wheezing my way through the checkout line at the grocery store, people looking at me as if I am a carrier of the plague when I coughed. No, I probably shouldn’t be out, exposing people to my germs, but seriously, can I just stop doing everything when I’m sick? No, of course not.
And now, some humor . . .
Conversation from dinner:
The girl: Thanks for signing the permission slip so I can see those movies at school.
Me: You’re welcome.
Dad: What movies?
Me: Uh. Shiloh something and Winn Dixie.
Dad: Why were there permission slips?
Me: They have a couple of words in them the kids aren’t supposed to hear.
The girl: Damn.
Me: (laughing, ’cause that’s the kind of parent I am)
Dad: I hope that’s one of them
The girl: War is hell.
Me: I guess you read the permission slip, eh?
The girl: Yep.