I'm hoooooooome from the Bahamas. Little later than expected because we missed our flight. The hole in the ceiling and broken water heater didn't fix themselves while we were gone, so that's on the list of things to do.

Because of the leaky heater (it's actually a pipe by the heater we now know), I can't use half of the faucets in the house. That means NO washer for all the stinky vacation clothes.

I'm off to the store to get more detergent, so I can practice my mad pioneer laundry skillz in the master bath tub. I can't believe I have to hand wash. If my husband doesn't stop humming the Little House on the Prairie tune, I will throw a shoe at him.

And I was all excited about washing my new quilty fabric so I could cut it today.

More about the vacation later, but here it is in short:

"A suite!"

"What, no ocean view?"

"Hmmm, should we go to the ocean or beach-front infinity pool?

"Another rum runner, please."

"Mmmm...ten-dollar lobster."

"We're under a tropical storm warning."

"Horray for 80-minute massages."

"No more tropical storm warning."

"Oops, my arms got burnt because I wouldn't get out of the turquoise water."

"We leave at 1:15 and get home at 3:00? That make no sense."

"Oh, we were supposed to be on the 11:00 flight? I knew 1:15 to 3:00 didn't make sense." (Glares daggers at husband for his mistake)

"Yay! Three seats on the 2:00 miraculously appear!"

"We're home! Cats are mad. Hole is still in the ceiling. Back to reality."

Fin.