The kids have missed a week of school, and their lack of schedule has pushed them to the edge of boredom. My new sermon series has failed to gain traction with two Sunday cancellations, and our midweek ministries have lagged behind, too. My family demolished two boxes of tissues while our noses ran marathons. Our television has played more Barbie movies in the past two weeks than should be legal.
My sanity was already tottering. This morning it fell over the edge.
In an effort to infuse yet another snow day with renewed excitement, I took the family out for breakfast. We drove to Martin's SuperMarket, which boasts a Starbucks franchise and the best donuts in town. Their apple fritter could start a revival.
We raced from the parking lot to the revolving door. My daughters made several extra revolutions. We passed the muffin cart and moved to the donuts display.
The temperature dropped. The wind chill rose. Our eyes popped in an expression of horror. There were no donuts. No fritters. No honeymooners. No long johns. No crullers. Nothing but empty trays. When it's too cold for the donuts fairies to come in and work their fresh-baked magic, it's just too cold.
My daughters handled the situation with remarkable composure. But in that dark moment, I cursed winter. "Fie on you Jack Frost! Winter, be gone!"