SLIDER

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Guests

A good guest comes bearing gifts. Puts their own dishes in the dishwasher. And goes out of their way to leave the home better than when they arrived.

A good guest, however, does not shit the bed. Francine. You're never going to be invited back to Gus' house. You're always gonna be that girl who pooped in his room. That's right, you should be a little embarrassed, we certainly are.

We had a fast and furious trip to Bend this weekend to visit AJ and Breezy and Gus. Zach, too, was couch-surfing. We hung out at their new place, played guitars and watched the babies, and tasted a variety of beers (some had more than others) at Bend Brewfest. And then, this morning, after a solid night of zero to no rest (The Bean apparently doesn't want me to sleep any more), Francie pooped. And it eeked out the side of her diaper. And leaked through her onesie. And onto my pants. And my foot. And spread to the sheets. And apparently the mattress, too.

Good guests buy their hosts mattress pads, especially if they let their children soil the bed.

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