Even apart it appears my husband and I are on the same wavelength. Did you pick up any pants for us? You see, while Papa is basking in the sun of SoCal we are freezing our tails off on the other coast. Right now it’s ten degrees, feels like zero. And to add insult to injury we have no pants. Actually no, we have no clean pants. Cold weather at the urchin abode means no clothes washing. Somewhere in the walls of the house a little ice dam has formed in the drain trap effectively bringing all laundering of clothes to a screeching halt until we thaw out. I could — and sometimes do — pour hot water down the drain and hope it reaches the frozen block with enough heat to melt it. But this requires some careful supervision of the washing machine while it’s running to stop it in case that little dam is ornery enough to resist the heat and send all the soapy water back out the way it came — all over the floor, and then through the ceiling to the floor below. And as it turns out there are two cases of bronchitis that are requiring my undivided attention — according to the doctor Tristan has a very bad case so I guess Katie has what he would describe as a normally bad case — not to mention my own sinus infection which knocked me flat at the end of last week. So Papa, if you’re reading this, please send pants. Otherwise we’ll have to resort to drastic measures…

Too Small Pants
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