Because tomorrow is the day. If you're a parent in Chicago, tomorrow is the day of peace.Tomorrow, I will send them off with hugs and kicks in the butt and then turn to my desolate house and sing hallelujahs.
I've had these ingrateful cafeeine freaks under my feet for three long months and I am RED DEE FOR THEM TO DISAPPEAR.
Does this make me bad? Does it mean I don't love them?
Derp.
I love them to death. But holy mother of God, if I hear one more bleat regarding TV remote ownership or dog politics I'm going to make the news.
Tomorrow: I will drink coffee and stare into the beautiful pastoral quaint that is my block (I live in the background of a Norman Rockwell painting); I will watch TV all by myself; I'll play an entire song on the oldies station (Bon Jovi? really?) without some arrogant, snobbish, knee-jerk redirect from a 13 year old music geek who's still processing the difficult concept of his pop attending the concerts of the bands he plays on Guitar Hero.
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