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As a redeeming moment, coming home that first night, after we'd left the car to be towed, my wife's not even pissed I blew 45 bucks on a wrong tire. She, her sister, and my mom-in-law are getting silly over rum-and-Cokes. Roto-rooter has nicely cleaned things up, and I can finally take a dump and a shower, and I quickly rejoin the party in the kitchen where we kill of a bottle of rum and move on to Irish whiskey.
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Ever notice how this place just basically, well, sucks.
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