Hardwood floor + superballs = self-entertaining cat
We are home; all is well.
We are the people who, the day before, do the dishes (and put them away) one last time, clean, dust, vacuum, tidy, and pack well in advance. Who, the day of, show up at the airport two hours ahead of time, armed with iPods and laptops fully charged (and with an extra battery in the bag just in case, because you never know how long you’ll be stuck at the gate while they perform work slowdowns, er, safety inspections). Who, the day after, come home to a house that is clean, organized, and serene.
In other words, we don’t have kids.
