My Parents Are Here
For a week. And they are helping out tons with the kids, so I can do things like fart around on the computer when I should be the one preparing pesto/sun dried tomato appetizer thingies for Iz's recital tonight (culinarily, my personal timeline stops at 1994. Maybe I should add some roasted garlic?).
I get to take naps. It get to run away to Point Reyes for two nights, by myself, next week. I am grateful.
But did they have to bring the entire contents of their fridge with them? "Honey, it was all going to go bad!" Ewwwww!