We've been discussing idioms around here, because idioms are crazypants, aren't they? I can explain their metaphorical meanings, but I can't justify their existence except as poetry, but using language for its soul is not satisfying justification to seven- and five-year-old nerdlets whose ages demand black-and-white understanding of everything. And we're always under the weather, you know, because the sky is over us and neither rain nor sun hit us from the ground up. Or you could argue: we're in the weather, because the cold is surrounding us, not merely hovering above.
And I counter: you are the weather, swirling chaos and books and crayons and milk cups all around me, never mind your torrential winds of questions and curiosities.
I left work early today. Mister G is under the weather. He got kicked out of school for a fever. The girls have a half-day tomorrow and the lovely husband was going to be home to ferry them and afternoon-entertain them but he has a strategically scheduled quick dentist appointment in the morning in his ongoing quest for permanent teeth. So although I had planned to go to work tomorrow, I switched to telework. I have plenty to do but I'll be at home, and it a little bit feels like vacation starts early.
I love Thanksgiving and Chanukah starts tomorrow night and although he's having some sort of solar flare-up, G is exhibiting no other symptoms of being under the weather. It's been raining for twelve hours and shows no signs of stopping and we're all ready for two holidays to begin, tucked snugly in our nest, and you explain how that metaphor is any more a reasonable use of words than an idiom. I like all the words, all the ways. When they wake up and continue with that line of questioning, I'll be ignoring them to write professionally. In my pajama pants. Which are totally not crazypants.