God of Ritual Madness.
And if you're waiting for something from me- I'm gonna wait for Chicago to get back to normal before sending them.
The Four Branches of the Mabinogion.
My fear is that they'll sit in the mailbox across the street in the sub-zero weather for 3 days, or that shoveled snow will bury the mail box and then the snow will melt into it, soggying up everything...
The Heart of the Ocean of Naught.
Actually, I think the mailbox across the street is under a mountain of snow.
The Will of the Air.
We had to dig out mine and my mom's patios because our dumb dog wouldn't poo! Because all around, the snow has covered up the smells. So we were just walking him around for hours and he'd just be sniffing frantically for ever- and did I mention it's cold out? Spirare.
So if it doesn't smell a little poopy already, he doesn't consider it poop-worthy.
Mr. Husband said, "I guess that's like if I had to poo and couldn't find a toilet." Which cracked me up because he didn't say "it's like if a person couldn't find a toilet." but rather "I." Cuz really, if I had to poo and couldn't find a toilet, screw it, I'd go behind a bush.
Well, isn't that nice? You came to see pretty jewelry and here's what you got: an image of me pooping behind a bush.