I'm sick of snow.
Really sick of it. It's starting to affect my personal life.
As I was preparing to get off the boat the other day, I was dreading the thought of shoveling more snow.
So I called home first:
ME: "Hi honey, how are you."
Mary Ellen: "Good, when are you coming home?"
Me: "Is there any more snow left?"
Mary Ellen: "That doesn't matter, when are you coming home."
Mark: "What's the weather forecast for Sunday?"
Mary Ellen: "I don't know, haven't looked. Are you coming home Sunday?"
Me: "Is there snow on the ground?"
Mary Ellen: "Most of it's gone, why?"
Me: "Oh, no reason."
Mary Ellen: "We miss you."
Me: "Yeah, miss you too. Before I catch the train, can you send me a current picture of our front yard?"