July 25th, 2006

cuervo and the box

We escaped this morning, and have spent the past couple of hours here at the airport.

Drinking.

We all got doubles… but not on purpose. Apparently my dad meant to order a Corona with a lime… a slip of the tongue resulted in a double Cuervo and a Corona… with four slices of lime.

It’s been a long few days.

My parents and sister boarded their plane about 20 minutes ago. It’s a nonstop and they should be home by five. I, on the other hand, get to change planes in Detroit—after a two hour layover—so I won’t be home until 11 or 12. Lovely.

And then I have to unpack the box that’s coming home with me.

Box, you say? Why do you have a box?

Oh, well you see, the family (my dad’s) wants to scan old pictures in and make sure everyone has copies (a very good idea, yes). Originally one of my crazy ass uncles was going to do it, but everyone was afraid it’d never get done… so my dad volunteered me. Uh huh. Which is technically fine, ’cause originally it was a small bag of pictures—maybe 100 in all.

Then we went to the warehouse last night, the last giant stockpile of my grandparents’ stuff, and lo and behold, it’s now a huge ass box filled with pictures and papers and medals.

That I get to scan, date, arrange in date order and then burn onto discs for all five siblings and their families.

Yeah.

I need another drink.