We are home, and I am exhausted. Rather than regale you with stories of our adventures on the road, I shall heed the siren song of my pillow. It missed me terribly, you know.
But, um, to anyone who was at the Guilderland rest stop around noon today: If you heard a piercing scream and wondered if someone was being dismembered, I offer you my deepest and most sincere apologies and hope that normal hearing returns to you as soon as possible (and that all of the shattering glass didn’t interfere with your enjoyment of that Auntie Anne’s pretzel).
Who wants to bet that the creator of automatic-flush toilets didn’t have small children?