Fog as Thick as Sea Poop

This past Monday, we woke to find ourselves in the clouds. Looking outside the kitchen windows gave us the impression that we lived in a castle in the sky, rather than a house in the woods. But as romantic as aerial castles might seem, they're hell to drive in. Shirra called me from her store to report that she'd barely been able to make it there safely: Route 32 was so white that it appeared that cars were driving out of nearby marshmallows. She'd had to honk while making the left turn across the 55-mph road, hoping that she hadn't misjudged the traffic. Later, when I tried to take the kids to the Galleria, I got to that same point on our road and realized that a drive to the mall wasn't worth the risk. We went back home and waited an hour until the sun suddenly came out long enough to melt some of the fog.