Thundersnow: Not nearly as cool as Thunderdome.

Yesterday we had thundersnow. THUNDERSNOW. Just kill me now, please. Apparently I no longer live in Chicago, I've been teleported to Narnia, pre-Pevensie intervention. Goddammit it.

Last night all I could do was make a meatloaf in my I Love Lucy flannel pajamas.



I'm still wearing my flannel pajamas at the end of March! Goddammit it.

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Steve has abandoned me for the weekend. He's going to Memphis, to MLB's Civil Rights Game, which features the White Sox vs. the Mets.

Really I'm happy that he's going, because he's not necessarily one of those people that throws caution to the wind and takes off for a selfish weekend. I think you need those sometimes, though. He's meeting his brother, who's a pilot at Southern Illinois University, and he's going to sleep on his bro's couch and, I don't know, do some other shit that you do with a bunch of college guys.

I did my requisite freak-out-at-Steve-and-make-him-the-sole-reason-my-life-sucks routine early last night, only to realize (and admit - I'm not above admitting) that it was really just my mind finally reacting to possibly missing him while he's away. I tend to go the Nonsensical Route when it comes to dealing with my emotions.

Actually, though, I sort of wanted Steve out of the apartment for the weekend because I have a date with my mom, my carpeting, and a Rug Doctor. We are going to clean the hell out of that indoor/outdoor eyesore that is my floor. Then, starting Monday, the kids are going to be sequestered to the kitchen when I'm not home. It's definitely a downgrade from their awesome couch privileges, but it will also be nice not to have my apartment smell like piss.



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I also have a date on Sunday night with PBS, and the final installment of "The Complete Jane Austen." Incidentally, today I got an email from some friends of mine informing me of a movie night that, sadly, is at the same time as "Sense and Sensibility."

Sorry guys, but escapism-through-Romantic-era-costume-drama wins.