Normally, when I return from a trip, be it short or long, the house looks as if a dog was chasing a cat through it and no one cared. Really. It almost makes me wish I had never left . . . almost.
This time was different. Perhaps the girls are maturing and they pitched in to help dear old Dad. No, that's not it. I think that they were all just gone and leaving dear old Dad to fend for himself. Yeah. That sounds more like it.
Everything was pretty much as I had left it except for the dishes, laundry and bedrooms. The dogs looked as if they may have been walked and fed on some sort of schedule and no one was sick. So much so that I didn't feel the least bit bad about taking the gang out to dinner to celebrate my homecoming.
I caught up on Monday and the week returned to normal. As normal as our house can be. I guess it wasn't that normal because Scott was now in Palm Springs, and you know what that means. Money was flying out of the ATM.
But you know, we're Roderick's. It's what we do.
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