'Are you this skanky at home?'

Checking out to check back into my hotel today and the front desk staff are on fire. I do love when Americans do sarcasm well. And that we basically create live improv theatre.  You be able to laugh, to be able to find humour in this quagmire, this is how I will get through this leg of the journey.  'But seriously, ma'am...some people, their hotel rooms are just nasty. You just gotta wonder...are they the skanky at home?!'

My father? Yeah...that guy...Critical but stable. Frail, weighing in at 87 lbs. He's 5'10, or was...now he is just teeny tiny. A shell, his skin a shroud. I spend hours or not sitting with him, listening to the latest from the doctors. It will be down to him if he can use the ladder of care offer to pull himself up. No one can do that for us. 

In the meantime, there is lot of heavy lifting and making sure I'm driving on this reality's 'right' side of the road.  In this big ol' truck, which I couldn't find on Thursday night. How do you lose a Ford F150? Jet lag helps. The hotel I am ensconced in is only .8 miles up the road but really, wandering around Downtown Dayton at 3am is not smart, so I have this guy. 

Now excuse me whilst I go unload the shotguns to take over to my uncle's. The next sh*tshow e starts tomorrow and it isn't going to be pretty. It's also why I'm in a hotel. 

Send all of the otter memes.