Surprising, given who I was spending it with. But, my brother and the bitch were barely around long enough to have any significant conversations with, with the exception of supper on Sunday–but, then, they didn’t stay all that long afterwards either so I’ll take it. So, no one ended up throwing punches, and all and all it was… well… unstressful. Not at all like the family I’m used to going back to Pembroke to visit. Not that it means I’m in a hurry to go back–I subscribe to the theory good things only happen once every 15 years. And that was my family’s once. So now, I shall stick to the plan that has kept me alive for 24 years–go nowhere near 95% of the family if at all humanly possible to avoid them. There are, of course, the exceptions to that rule. But they, like me, were also smart enough to get the hell away from the rest of them. Which… is actually why they’re the exceptions to the rule. I like it when things work out that way. I like it even better when things working out that way means I don’t wind up with one hell of a killer headache. Who says avoiding people is a bad thing?