We made it back home. The trip was fairly easy, if you don't mind a sleepy 2-year-old screaming for her bed the last 50 miles or so.
I went out for a couple of hours this afternoon with my daughter Anna to argue over clothing choices. When we got back, we found Larry halfway through ripping up my kitchen floor. Apparently it slipped his mind that I had promised to hold a Pampered Chef fund raiser in our house 2 days from now (and I had told him this morning). A Pampered Chef fund raiser - you know, the kind where someone comes over and cooks a meal in your kitchen, a kitchen presumably not cluttered with chunks of torn-up linoleum and particle board. A kitchen, let's say, that has a floor. This is a problem, and I am not sure how to solve it, other than making Larry stay up all night until he finishes whatever project he has in mind.
It's not as if there were no other projects to work on in this house, you know.
I bought Anna 2 outfits that aren't too slutty. That was the best I could do. I wanted to get her 3 outfits, but there weren't any more items in the juniors department that would be deemed acceptable from my middle-aged, conservative, "shouldn't that only be seen by your husband?" perspective. I thought I was being generous in labeling the 2 outfits we got "barely decent." And Anna showed remarkable restraint by not calling me a "stupid old lady," as she has done in the past at this particular clothing establishment. Progress, folks; we're making progress.
I have to go to bed early - my morning walking companion has threatened to drag me bodily out of bed if I don't meet her outside tomorrow at 6:30 AM (I've been slacking off, I admit). I think she means well, but it sure doesn't feel like it.