In-laws are in town.

Unexpectedly, and staying at my house, so I guess it's good that we've taken to cleaning the place up a bit. Last time, there was a certain feeling of accusation to seeing my mother-in-law getting on her knees to scrub the linoleum floor in the kitchen. Bothered me enough that I refloored the kitchen.

They're sleeping on the hide-a-bed, which is never good for one's disposition. They're too old for that, but we haven't given up our bed. I solved part of that dilemma by announcing that I'm staying with my father tonight after work. (He lives much nearer my work than I do, and we've got some shooting to do tomorrow morning before our hunting trip.)

So this morning, after eating a pound of bacon and a dozen eggs and a half-loaf of wheat toast for breakfast and washing it down with two pots of coffee (two extra house guests and miniature greyhound, and you'd think we were hosting a camp of lumberjacks), I did my chores and set off to work. Either your work is pleasant or your home life is stressful when you feel a sigh of relief well up as your car leaves your house.

I like 'em well enough-- it's just too small a house for such a compliment.