The folks are 125 miles from Denver. The house smells like paint, so we’ve opened all the windows and shut off the heater.

We tried to be extra polite to each other during our holiday cleaning frenzy (as a change of pace). This lead to some interesting quotes yesterday.

“Please move that fucking chair the hell out of my way.”

“I’m going to kick that goddamn cat into pinata-land, dear.”

“Where’s that … [mental freeze] thing?”
“What thing?”
“That [inventive expletive deleted] thing you were looking for before.”
“I stopped looking for it.”

“We should try to be polite and not swear next year.”
“Let’s not go fucking overboard, honey.”

“Santa’s not bringing you anything this year, is he?”
“Probably not, bud.”