Toto (er, William Wallace) and I are back in our house and boy are we glad. I loved the hospitality that Cecilia and Valorie showed me last week, and Wallace had a wonderful time (as always) at his grandma’s pad, but it was time to come home.
I opened the door to my house with trepidation yesterday and fully expected to see a mess. The word on my street was that my renters…well, they were fond of the liquor. So much so that they drank all of mine, and invited my neighbors over for some, too. (But they did pay me back for it AND left me a bottle of Grey Goose, so luckily I didn’t have to act all redneck on ’em.) Much to my surprise, though, the place looked pretty darn good. They even stripped down the beds and took out the trash for me. Somebody’s mama raised them right.
I love Masters week in Augusta, but I’m really glad for it to be over. I feel like someone hit me with a truck and I sort of look like it, too. My give-a-damn was definitely busted by Sunday. This is one of those days where I would like nothing more than to go home and drink a glass of wine. Only…I don’t have any.
Dang renters.
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Welcome back to blogging! I missed you last week!
I am glad you and your house made it through.