
I knew better to look at the weather app on my phone when I woke up this morning, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hopeful the weather goofs were wrong.
I, like most “dad types,” have a strange morbid fascination with extreme weather events. I think it’s brought forth from the same gene that some of us have for things like gas passing, belching, boogers, shaving scum, earwax, and turd size.
Anyway, the forecast was not wrong, telling me that it was -7˚F. With that, I immediately knew that an outdoor lumber was not on the table today. Well, at least not for me.








