Shelter from the storm
This evening, two minutes after the hail started and one minute before the power went out:
Lance: Hey love? Would you mind riding this one out in the closet with me?
Becky: Ok… [rummage, rummage] …can I paint my toenails in the closet?
Lance: I think we’ll all die if you do that.
We have slight differences in bad-weather policies around here.