In the state of North Carolina we're known for many things; our hospitality, our barbecue, Dean Smith, and the home of the finest lawman to ever wear a badge, Sheriff Andy Taylor, aka Andy Griffith.
More so than anything else, however, is our unparalleled ability to totally FREAK OUT when the possibility of winter weather rears it's ugly head. You've never seen a population clear out a grocery store of it's milk, bread, and lotto tickets like the fine citizens of the Tar Heel state. The elderly go to the supermarket while those of us with small children clean out the local ABC stores, the corner drug dealer, and if all possible get ahold of a Doctors prescription pad; the prospect of prolonged lock down mode with rabid children will make you wipe your moral compass clean in roughly the amount of time it takes to break the speed of sound. Trust me on this one.
Thankfully, in spite of our local weather gurus predictions, we only got 3 inches instead of 12; which meant I shuffled off to work yesterday while Ange took the Two Amigos and One Amigoette out to play yesterday.
Instead of telling you about how it all played out I'm going to just sum it up with what Ange saw as she finally got all three kids out of their wet clothes and boots and back inside the house.
Trot, buck naked, standing on top of the counter eating a banana while dancing and singing "Let it Snow" at the top of his lungs.
I couldn't make half this stuff up if I tried.
Surrender the Farmhouse Sink
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