We're home tonight, doing laundry and watching the Breakfast Club for the 47,258,971st time (I swear there's a competition between stations to see who can make the most ridiculous new censorships in this movie). The reality is that we're leaving first thing in the A.M. for Trumbull and then re-leaving Sunday morning for our weeklong mountain vacation and we are nowhere near ready. No clean clothes, nothing packed, we're not even sure how to get to where we're going. So it's an exciting Friday night. And that's fine.
Right now Fran is cuddled up with Dents watching Anthony Michael Hall squeak his way out of an inevitable confession that he's a virgin and I'm halfway thru a rinse cycle.
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