I'm going where?

S and I spent the evening with our Realtor cavorting through ramshackle houses in the jungles of Takoma Park. While I could see how some of the yards might adventitious for raising a brood of lemurs, the moldy basements, broken door knobs and minuscule kitchens left a bit to be desired. Although, in truth, if anybody is planning on starting a farm of prairie dogs or a moldy basement daycare, (that's pretty catchy. You can't tell me you wouldn't want to send your young-ins ((which is what we at moldy basement daycare call the children)) to a place that promised poor service up front. Isn't that all we really want from our daycare center people anyway?

Parent: Sample end of day conversation:
How was his day.
Actual: Oh, he did well. He played nicely with Alex and even learned to say red.
Moldy basement daycare answer: Your child is a cretinous punk. I'd like to blame him, but I can tell that he probably isn't getting any real parenting at home judging by the way you're avoiding him/her even right now. And you're telling him to play with his friends so you can keep talking to the teacher. Am I right? (Throws arm amicably over startled parent's shoulder).

Parent: Did he eat his lunch?
Actual: He tried really hard. I told him that he couldn't have his cookies until he finished at least half his sandwich.
MBDA: Your child threw a tantrum when I sat him down nicely on the carpet and tried to explain why I had to take away his lunchable and explained to him that it was in no way shape or form actual food and that if his mommy really loved him she'd have packed a damn lunch. Things sort of went south from there because your kid, and I'm just being honest here, is a little regressed in the intellectual department. I think he may have already licked some mold before he even got to us, and I want no part of his future insurance billing.

I was planning for my trip to Austin, Texas today when I received an e-mail that my flight to San Antonio had been changed. Needless to say I checked my ticket and discovered that in buying the cheapest/most convenient ticket from the D.C. area to Texas that I'd booked for San Antonio. Which, no offense to San Antonio it's probably a nice place to be, but I figured since I was meeting friends in Austin it might be a good idea to actually fly there. I called the airline, and they told me that for the mere price of 487 dollars I could fly into Austin as opposed to San Antonio. San Antonio is eighty miles from Austin, or in air time, about two minutes. However, apparently those two minutes in the air would cost the airline 480 dollars and far be it from me to complain. I'm just exited to check out the Spurs, the rodeo, and whatever else San Antonio has to offer while all of my lame friends who I'm supposed to meet up with go river rafting. S has now barred me from buying any plane tickets. Probably a wise decision on her part.