The phone rings. I see it is Joy. Without so much as a hello, this is how our conversation goes:
Me: "If it doesn't stop snowing, we are going to have a problem here, because I will kill this child."
Joy: "So I wasn't the only one dismayed to see the snow this morning? My phone rang really early and I thought it was you, but it was a nasty message from my landlord about the proper disposal of shredded paper in the recycling bin, then I saw the snow and I was like, damn iiiiiiiit!!"
And, well, that's how I think it will be today. The snow has turned into miniscule drops of icy coldness, but anyone who's ever wrestled an almost-two-year-old into a carseat knows that icy coldness=instant shrieking. And even though I want Joy to come over, I wouldn't wish that on anyone, much less a fellow mother.