Normally when Dad and I take our annual pilgrimge to Vermont, to see the wonderful foliage, the extent of the planning involved is making sure we have enough cash to pay for gas. As would be expected, the net result is that nights must be borne in the car, as every hotel and motel is booked solid for the night. And while it would be nice to relive childhoom memories of sleeping under a comforter in the trunk of the hatchback while parked in the middle of the scary scary woods, I'm a little too old for that crap now. So I booked a hotel instead, at a ski lodge at the top of a mountain no less. It's costing me a pretty penny, because I got silly and reserved a nice room with a balcony. Which doesn't make much sense at all, as we'll be driving up and then driving back down, spending only enough time at my expensive room just for sleeping.

My modestly, and admittedly mildly crazy, plans have drawn some scorn, which peeves me. It's one thing to laugh with people, it's another matter entirely to laugh at people. But then I sit back and I think about what's really going on. I'm going to take a 6 hour drive to Vermont, whereupon I'm going to drive around Vermont for a few more hours, sleep in an overpriced room on a sofabed, drive around Vermont some more, and then drive 6 hours late at night back from Vermont. It does sound pretty silly on the face of it, so why would I do something that makes so little sense?

Because I get to spend 48 hours of quality time with my Dad.

There's a lot of people who would spend a lot more then I did to get that again.