So there we were

the Mister was "texturing." I hate to say it, but he may have found his calling (by the by - the creepy look last night was just the drying pattern - this seems to be working pretty well).

I thought I'd give Dad a call and see how he was progressing. Around 8.

"I'm just outside of Memphis," he said. "I'm letting the dog drive so I'm making good time. I should probably be there to have coffee with you tomorrow morning."

Thankfully, father visits do not excite the same cleaning hysteria and feeling of domestic inadequecy as mother visits. I shoved an armload of bedding into the washer, took out all the truly egregious garbage, and ran the vacuum.

That ought to do. But I am going to turn in a little early, because the kitchen (newly textured) could use a wee bit more tidying in the morning.