You guys, if I survive the frickin' night, it will be a miracle. Things that have me fearful for my life:
1. The precariously perched mountain of shit, I mean childhood memories, hovering behind the sofa bed that I am now laying in, as evidenced by the above posted photo.
2. My dad asking 75 times before we went to bed, "Are you sure no one needs anything from the car? I'm setting the alarm. DO NOT GO OUTSIDE UNTIL IT'S DAYLIGHT." Like we're under siege, which I guess technically we are in this neighborhood. Because? Ghetto.
3. The pot of water that my dad is insisting on leaving BOILING on the GAS STOVE overnight because he gets "dry." Huh? We are in NEW ORLEANS, a city under SEA LEVEL with 100% humidity ALL THE FUCKING TIME. And he's dry?
If I had had less wine, I would probably be freaking out. But instead, I am going to bed.