The winter of my discontent.

I told Steve the other day if I ever write a book about not driving, I'd call the chapter about these last few month, "The winter I almost killed myself."

"It's funny," I said.

Steve said in a year or two, maybe funny. Right now? It seems a little too likely.

Not having a car in the winter with two very small children is mind-numbingly dull. They are too little for arts and crafts. They have more energy than can be burned up walking around the block. And there are just so many episodes of My Little Pony I'm willing to let them watch.

So we trudge along, waiting for spring. On the plus side, I've taken to doing my crossword puzzles online. It took a little getting used to, but as Carolyn would say, "I did it!"