Home alone.

Again.

Last year, the wife and youngest son flew off to the southern corner of the U.S.

This weekend, they're off in the opposite direction, for another family wedding. Just north of Mount Saint Helens.

I would love to be there.

But someone has to take care of the heelers. Give them their twice daily doses of meds.

True, youngest son could do that. Probably.

But the nightly butt washings? Followed by butt gooping and butt spritzing?

He offered to stay home, but admitted he probably couldn't handle those duties. And if you miss even a day, you're looking at a pair of fistulated and cracked anuses.

And that ain't good.