Soggy Monday.

There's one thing that a massive mother nature air strike can undeniably consummate: soaked jeans.

I've never been a fan of wet clothes, and the more I think about it, the more I cringe at the mere idea. All that added amount of friction between your legs hardly makes walking throughout Target enjoyable, which we all know, would normally bring pure contentment. The cats have approached my soggy trousers with a sense of unease a couple times now, only to be just as put off as I am about the dampness. I'm contemplating wrapping myself in Reynolds wrap, but realized my self-esteem isn't prodigious enough.

The wet weather is supposed to stay for the next week, and although my Seven's have seen dryer days, I welcome it with open arms. Just not a tornado - hospitality embracement will not be available. FYI, I have a huge fear of flying up inside a cyclone, with farm animals joining in on the ride. Some movies, like Twister, should not be shown to 7 year olds. Sorry Helen Hunt, but my children will not have to mentally cope with Meg being stuck in the basement. However, I digress.

Just be sure to dust off the rain coats and umbrellas, California, and leave the jeans safe at home.

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