Missing either a post, or my mind

I would swear I had written something this week, and I would swear it was brilliant. Remember? Something about sloshing through the messy streets of NYC? About going to Canada Night and meeting a Mountie? About how if one child isn’t sick, the other one is? Is any of this ringing a bell?

No? Then I guess I didn’t really write it after all. It was just a week to be endured, until I got to yesterday, which was supposed to have been a family hooky day — but with the aforementioned sickness and the missed schooldays and all that, I couldn’t even in bad conscience take them out of school yesterday, so I went to the mountain alone and froze like I have seldom frozen before. It was cold. Colder than a witch’s . . . broomstick, as the beer vendor at MacArthur Stadium used to say. I mean, cold. Mostly because of the 30mph winds. Today was supposed to be a little less of the same, so we are planning on tomorrow as what may be the last chance to salvage the ski season. Good thing we got out early! (Unfortunately, we missed a fantastic powder day last Sunday because, as usual, someone was sick.)

Today? This house is a disaster. Something must be done.