But being home means sleeping in our lovely Queen-sized bed (vs. the King at the rental house...which is massive...and I feel the need for a bullhorn to say "Good Night" to Mr. Wookie), and there's no needing to protect a 1-year-old nephew from a 65-pound, I-just-want-to-lick-the-shit-outta-this-nephew English Bulldog. Maybe by delaying the Yays and Nays of Spring Break, I'll actually be inspired to write the post.
And really, who wouldn't want to drink with my family? We put the "fun" in dysfunctional. And make short busses look intelligent.