My husband went to an elementary school today in celebration of Patriot's Day. They gave him a framed copy of the Pledge of Allegiance. It is a good reminder.
In other 9/11 news, one day after my boxes arrived from Small Town so did a house guest. Yes, you heard me right. My husband, in his hunting season euphoria, invited his uncle to stay with us ONE DAY AFTER THE MOVERS BROUGHT MY BOXES. He is sleeping on a mattress on the floor in Z's room. The sheets? From four mismatched sets. The blanket? A crappy polyester comforter left over from college days. Does it make me a bad hostess that I can't work up enough energy to care?
Perhaps a call to my shrink is in order. Signs of my depression (read: anger) are breaking through my meds. Or maybe my husband is the one who is crazy.