These so-called vacations will soon be my death

I have now been on vacation for four weeks, and I've decided that that's plenty. I want to go home.

There have been seven separate moves since I left home. Each time, I had to repack our bags. Each time, I had to drive for at least two hours before I could unpack.

Steve has been gone for almost two weeks, and Michael and I are close to coming to blows. We had a full-blown argument in a store on Sunday morning. He said that I was the meanest person in the world. I said that I was not mean, I was his mommy, and he was not allowed to eat cookies for breakfast.

I'm in Bangor for a week. This is a bit of a relief, because I can finally unpack my clothes. But I can't wait to get home to my own house in Name Of Town Withheld.

It had better be clean when I get there.