Let sleeping grouches sleep.

So, back to vacation (yeah, it's been a discombobulated report, but that's how the whole trip was).

So, we've survived the blown engine, the six hour drive, the trip to Gatlinburg, and the hubby dressing like a woman. We even survived going into Kroger, and the DD getting eyed by some construction worker in the freezer section. Make note, young men, NEVER eye a teenaged girl when her father is nearby, walking, and you are on a ladder. It's not a good idea.

So, we went back to the cabin and got ready to go to bed. Jill announced, yet again, that the loft was hers, and that Seth is going to sleep on the couch. Announces not to wake her up in the morning. Dan says that he's taking Seth golfing in the morning, so that will work out fine -- for everyone but Seth, of course, who gets the couch AND gets woke up early, but he rolls with it. Bratty gets huffy and asks "what are WE doing tomorrow?" I say, "what do YOU want to do," to which she responds, "go to Kroger."

NOT an option, dear.

I tell her that it would be fine if she wants to sleep in, because I know she's tired. I get a rather shrill reply: "I cannot BELIEVE that you would LEAVE ME in the MIDDLE of the woods, ALL ALONE." "Well dear," I say, "I thought you might want to get caught up on your sleep, while the guys go golfing for the morning, and I go to the antique stores. "Oh great," is the response, complete with roll of the eyes, "antiquing or golfing. Those are my choices. GREAT." "No, dear. Your best option is to SLEEP." Another roll of the eyes, and a big sigh of disgust. I tell her that maybe we could find some shopping, but there's probably nothing nearby, other than kitschy shops that sell stuffed bears and chainsaw carvings of eagles and the like. Maybe we can have breakfast out instead, because the stores probably won't be open when we drop the representatives of the Y chromosome at the golf course. She ain't buying it.

Now, I have no idea what this bratty girl thinks that there is to do in Townsend, Tennessee, at 8:30 in the morning, cause it's a one stoplight town that just got an IGA a few years ago. I'm thinking that sleep is a good option, not only for us, but for the whole time. She finally says not to wake her up, "go AHEAD and leave me ALONE in the WOODS while you go SHOPPING. I'm sure I'll be just FINE."

No bear ain't comin' anywhere near this girl. She'd bite it.

Next day, I get up, drive the boys to the golf course, and go out for a little shopping. Found a fabulous 40s velvet beaded dress, and this royally inspired Lewella girdle. Royally inspired? Who thinks about the queen's underwear? But I digress. I drove back to the cabin, where Jill opens the door for me, with a look of death on her face. She looks half asleep,and fully unhappy. I asked her, "how did you sleep? Do you feel better today" to which she said, quite emphatically, "NO. The phone woke me up." Phone?

I go on vacation to get AWAY from phones, but it turned out the telemarketers knew where we were, because they called every morning. Jill never did answer the phone, but I'll tell you what, if she had, those people would not only not call again, they'd probably leave their job, and move into the Unabomber's cabin, in fear for their life. And maybe I'd join them.