On a lighter note...

Rosco has been worn the same pair of pants for three days, and he doesn't give a damn. That's what I love about babies - they have no concept of social niceties and rules of wardrobe. He would still be wearing those pants if he didn't spit up on the shoulder of his last clean long-sleeved bodysuit requiring a change into pajamas.

I, on the other hand, would love to wear the same pair of pajama pants three days in a row. If it weren't for Rosco soiling them with upchuck and requiring me to change them twice/day, I'd be more than happy to stink. Who's going to see me, after all? Am I supposed to be showering on the off chance that someone sees me creeping out to the mailbox? Pshaw.

Just to make myself sound a bit motivated, I did a mileage check between here and the post office. I always wondered how far it was and whether I could walk it with a baby strapped to my front. I always have stuff I want to mail and don't usually want to wait until Scott gets home (like Netflix movies I want to get back so that I get something new by the weekend.) It's half a mile. Now, all I need is for someone to tell me that 40 degrees is NOT too cold to take a 10-week-old excursioning in.