Well, Mother's Day weekend is over. All permanent residents of our home are utterly exhausted. Though it's nice finally to be able to host the parental units in our own house, it is very tiring to have that many people in the house for any length of time.
Our sweet little boy spent the weekend keeping track of six adults, and it like to have killed him. He crashed when they left, though just like a child who doesn't want to miss anything, he tried to keep an eye on us, but they just wouldn't stay open.
Sometime around 7-ish our buddy MS (that would be the man who forgot to move us until it was almost too late) showed up -- big black truck pulls into the driveway and honks. Out tumble MS, his two sons, his dog, and his mother. "I just wanted to show my mom your house -- especially the attic." Poor Mom, who has never met us, was a little embarrassed -- alas, it's MS and we're used to this behavior. I love this man. He's raising his two sons alone after his wife left, and he's doing a bang-up job. They're smart, well-adjusted, honestly good kids who work just as hard as their dad (how many 16-year-old boys can you say that about?).
We missed early-to-bed, and we've made the wimpy decision that there's no going to the gym in the morning.
And we don't get a weekend next weekend, either.
And, I also realize I haven't yet waxed poetic about the attic -- perhaps tomorrow.