Tomorrow, the alarm on my nightstand will sound at 4:00 a.m. About :45 minutes later, with the daughters loaded in the back seat and (hopefully) fast asleep, we will begin the long drive to lovely Cleveland to see my family for Thanksgiving. If it were just Mrs. Wife and I, the drive would take about eight hours. But throw a 7-year old and a 2-year old into the mix and you have to tack an additional two hours onto the trip.

We have a portable DVD player to anesthetize the kiddies during the long, dull drive. When I was a kid, in order to combat the boredom on long car trips, we had to count road kill. Most shocking road kill ever: a black bear in Pennsylvania.

If you are in your car waiting for a red light to change and you need to turn left, but there’s oncoming traffic at the opposite side of the intersection who are also waiting for the red light to change who have the right-of-way but you don’t want to wait for them, even though they have the right-of-way, so that when the light turns green you punch it and turn in front that first oncoming car who has the right-of-way and cut them off because you couldn’t wait your turn, guess what?

You are a SHITHEAD.

I was leaving the Pret where I occasionally get a morning cup of coffee and I stopped to use the bathroom on the way out. It’s a small, one-person bathroom and I certainly thought I had locked the door behind me but a minute later while I was on the throne, pants around my ankles, typing out a text message, the door swung open wide and a Pret employee wearing a Pret baseball cap and Pret polo shirt walked in, looked down at me, yelled, “OH, SHIT!” and ran out. I can’t tell you how embarrassed I was. Am. I don’t dare show my face in there ever again.