I have a plan.
Joe and I are going to pack up the kids, sell our house, and move to a tropical country that is relatively safe and germ-free but needs an accounting overhaul.
I figure if they need an accounting overhaul, they'll also need a few lawyers, so that means the rest of my family will need to move to this place, too. They don't know about this plan yet.
We will all move to said tropical place, and then my mom and I will open a school for the adorable, underprivileged, and underestimated children.
We will become the royalty of this tropical nation, and have lots and lots of money. We might live in a giant, state-of-the-art tree house like Swiss Family Robinson, or we might live in a massive chain of beach bungalows. I haven't really decided yet.
My mother will cook. Everything will be fruity and delicious. She will teach the natives about good spaghetti sauce and they will teach her the secret of serious jerk chicken. The natives will give us rum and there will be daiquiris and delights. I will be in excellent shape because I will beach-walk and swim often. I will own big sunglasses and have a sarong. My children will wear straw hats and run barefoot out the front door every morning to beautiful weather.
We will always be miraculously missed by hurricanes and other tropical storms. We will have a boat, a jet ski, and an exotic pet. Like a macaw, or a zebra. If I let my brother come, he will NOT bring his dog.
I will ride my zebra down the beach at sunset, and Joe will ride an ostrich. Because he's that kind of guy.
And working will be fun, and life will be great, and most importantly...
I will never be cold again. I hate winter.