With the exception of The Runt, everybody in my household almost met their makers this weekend.
On Saturday morning, I discovered that the spike bar that supplies power to the fish tank had come unplugged, and the tank water was down to 66 degrees. The fish were sluggish, but recovered once the tank got back up to temp.
On Saturday afternoon, I made possibly one of the worst decisions of my life by deciding to take a back road home from the grocery store. I had assumed that the town would have plowed and sanded this particular twisty, turny, extremely steep road by then; I was wrong. Suffice it to say that I was shaking by the time I finally got off that hill.
Yesterday, Little Girl disappeared for several hours in the snow and cold and wind. I finally found her in the garden, snuggled next to Mr. Z (a garden statue) underneath his tarp.
So this morning, when it's seven degrees out and windy? That's okay. We're all still here.