We woke up to snow this morning. Anne cried. But we spent spring break in South Carolina with Justin and Swiss, and we still carry the warmth of it in our hearts. Except when I remember certain phrases I overheard there like, "Swiss, could you adopt us?" and "Swiss, you're way more awesome than our mom."
The kids and I drove down without Jake. Yes, I am awesome in my own right, regardless of what my kids think. It wasn't that bad. Except for the hotel we stayed at on the way down. An old ornery shriveled man was working the check-in desk. With a wig pulled back in a bun and a rocking chair, he could have been Mother. If he'd been dead. Which he wasn't quite. He was re-keying a room card for a soft-spoken man giving me the creeps. (Why didn't I just go to a different hotel? I was tired, that's why.) "What's your room number?" Mother barked. "208," replied Norman Bates quietly. "What's that?" Mother barked again. "208," repeated Norman, not raising his voice a decibel. Eventually Mother managed to read his lips and re-key his card, while announcing to me and Norman that my room would be 211. Gulp. I hurried out to the car to drive to a spot as close to our room as possible. Meanwhile Norman was standing on the sidewalk staring at me. I stared back. Didn't phase him a bit. I wouldn't hurt a fly, I could practically hear him say.
I rushed the kids and our stuff into the hotel room, yanked the curtains closed and locked the door. "Why can't we have the curtains open?" they asked. "Because I said so! Get your pajamas on!"
It wasn't the best night's sleep I've ever had, needless to say. In the morning Anne wanted to know, "Why are you so grouchy still? You said you'd try to be nicer today." That was before I had to worry about dying in the shower in a pool of chocolate syrup. We got packed up and went to get our free breakfast. That's when I started to relax. It was light outside and there were other people eating breakfast, people who didn't creep me out. I felt so much better that when I saw Norman Bates eating in a corner and giggling to himself I felt sorry for him. Poor guy. We made it to our final destination that evening, but the kids just got off the bus so I'll have to blog about that later. REEE, REEE, REEE! (That's the sound of the knife in Psycho, folks.)