Sorry about yesterday

It's not cool to post something that is destined to be awful and boring. (Which is probably a good reason to just remove this entire blog.) (But no.)

Last night I learned that I made a tactical error in our holiday plans. We're driving (in a rented car) (because both our cars are aging) to a state that borders Canada. So far so good. Since my wonderful parents are caring for my grandmother (who turns 98 next week!) they don't have a guest room anymore. So the kids will stay at their house and the Husband and I, along with my brother and his girlfriend (which is such a stupid word to use when we're all over 30 and they live in the same apartment, presumably sleeping in the same bed), will stay in a hotel suite nearby.

Did you notice the tactical error?

My darling mother, before making the arrangements, asked my brother and me what we'd prefer: two separate rooms or a big suite. I haven't seen my brother in over two years, and I've never met his "friend". Two rooms could possibly be quite far apart. And I don't want to run around a hotel in my pajamas. (Because I'm 35, for God's sake!) So my brother took the incredibly smart road of saying "Whatever." (Why can't I do that, like EVER?!?) But I voted. Yes indeed. I voted for a suite. A suite with a bedroom containing a king-sized bed and a living room with a fold-out bed.

The husband learned of these plans yesterday and now has further evidence that I'm at best unstable. At worst trying to ruin his life. Because a door? Is not nearly enough privacy. And sharing a bathroom? I kept telling him about the kitchen and the minibar, but he was not hearing it.

But at least he didn't insist on changing the reservation.

So brother, if you're reading this, we call DIBS on the king sized bed. And first in the shower!