It’s my vacation. I can ramble if I want to.

Ah, blessed vacation.

The kids are on spring break, and I already got rid of saw one off on his mission to bring the message of peace, love and monkeys to a foreign people. I only hope that the American border guards will let him back in the country. After a week of living amongst the savages, he may have picked up some of their heathen ways (like bathing).

The other unholy terror child has spent the weekend pining for her brother’s companionship. To combat this, she’s had girlfriends sleep over for 2 of the past 3 nights. And let me tell you, there’s nothing like the peace and serenity of a house filled with 14-year-old girls.

Last night, after an orgy of pizza and Coke, they hauled out the Ouija board. Naturally, my nutso sainted spouse had to get down on the floor with them. Apparently, the giggling screams could be heard as far north as Minnesota. At least that’s what the smeghead I was on the phone with said. But I won’t talk about her, because I don’t want to be responsible for the wrath of Red Dwarf fans were I to let slip her disparaging remarks about one of the best shows ever. I’m just not that petty.

Now, I have a full week sitting before me like an overstretched slinky. I have my cunning plans to clean house, to finish a recording or two, to see a couple of spring training games, but they’re all subject to being snapped back in my face (or walked end-over-end down a staircase). Whatever. I have my coffee. And my computer. Tomorrow may bring a Whiny-inspired retaliation event from Canada or a slumber party from hell. I have no worries.

At least I’m not at work.

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