I hate to break it to him . . .
But we’ve company arriving this weekend. That means not only must he endure the trauma of the growling machine (vacuum), but no sooner than he settles back in, he’ll be booted off the bed, in favor of my aunt having a place to call her own. Cruel and unusual, I’m quite aware, but he’ll get it over it. As a matter of fact, he’ll probably revel in a new face–not that he would dare admit it, mind you.
And let’s be serious–he’ll still be free to nap while we’re off, gallivanting about town.
Speaking of which, I have a sneaking suspicion, come Monday afternoon, we all may be ready to join him.
So to you, dear friends, a happy cindo de mayo–and the days that prop it up. May your hours be filled with good food and good company; may you laugh and celebrate; may you even manage to find a little time to lounge about and recover from the frivolity of it all.
. . . happy weekend, to you and yours!