As I rolled my unapologetic body out of bed at 10:22 in the A-to-the-M and stumbled into the living room, I discovered that The Dad was not present. After Phineas and Ferb decided what they were going to do today, The Daughters tuned into my nagging and told me that The Dad was out shoveling the driveway.
Say wha--??
We had 24 inches of snow, not to mention the 37-foot drifts. How far was he going to shovel? All the way to wherever it was he thought he needed to go? And the temps? They were well below freezing. After I checked Facebook, I was going to go stand at the door wrapped in a blanket and yell at him to get right back in the house! Then I would slam the door because I wouldn't want the cold to get in and, in honor of my own dad, I don't want to "heat the whole damn outdoors"!
Before I could do that, though, he came in on his own. "Honey, one of my friends on Facebook just posted that you could get frost bite just being outside for more than 10 minutes! And you know that's the truth!"
"That's why I'm coming inside every 10 minutes," he breathlessly explained.
"Why are you even shoveling? We can't go anywhere! The snow is two feet even in the roads!" I exclaimed. Why this was so important to me, I'm not sure. He wasn't asking me to shovel (smart man). Maybe I wouldn't care if I knew exactly where the life insurance policies were... KIDDING! None the less, I felt that he shouldn't be outside shoveling in this weather, when he could be inside refereeing The Daughters in their 425th fight since the blizzard began a little over 24 hours ago!
After several hours of The Dad shoveling, then taking a break, then shoveling, then taking a break, he declared that he was going to go check out the roads. Truth be told: the man cannot be still. Yesterday, if it weren't for the dozens of naps he stole throughout the day - oh! and the blinding snow storm - he'd have been out and about. So, really, I was grateful that he lasted inside for 24 hours.
So, The Dad bundled up and set out to "check the roads"; his plan was to just drive around the block. He left at 2:14 pm and I began to worry at about 2:30 when he hadn't returned. I tried calling him just to see what his plan was, so I would know where to send the St. Bernard. Tammy Wynette began belting out, "Stand By Your Man" on the end table. Yes, that's right, The Dad had left his phone at home.
At 2:45, I was pretty sure that I was going to have to find the life policies. Our block, while it's a fairly big block, it's not a city block by any means.
At 3:00, I began bundling myself up, I'd have to just go find him myself. I'd trek out around our block and see what drift he had landed in. Darn him! Why couldn't he just romp around in the front yard and call it good??!
Just when I was about to set out in search of my long-lost, stir-crazy husband, after I'd given strict instructions to The Daughters on how to microwave dinner in the event that they were orphaned due to The Dad's inability to stay at home for longer than an episode of American Idol, The Dad - and his vehicle - slowly pulled back into our driveway.
I was completely ready to jump right in the middle of his out-and-about butt when he got out of the car and shut the door behind him. That's when I noticed his hand. He was holding ice cream cups.
OK - fine! I can be bought with ice cream and I am not ashamed to admit it.
And I had clearly learned my lesson: If The Dad wants to risk his life and limb to get out of the house (and bring me back some ice cream), I will not be the one to tell him no -- as long as I know where the life insurance policies are!
