Just Chillin'

When I was on the road I'd call home to just hear the voices of my family and find that they were all right.

Sam was usually the one who I had to chase down because no one answers the house phone.

Me: What're you doing?

Sam: Chillin'

And when I walked in the house they were all a bit too excited to show me how clean the house was.

Sort of like kids who clean everything up the day when their parents get home from a trip.

So.

We kicked the discussion off as I prepared Sunday dinner.

"How'd you guys eat while I was gone?"

"We managed."

I had counted the take-out boxes in the fridge.

I hate boxes in the fridge. Why are we cooling off huge boxes for a few leftover fries that won't be eaten?

"Was anything cooked when I was gone?"

"Chicken fries," Sam said.

Of course, the clutter was all gone.

"Was the house a mess most of the time?"

"Of course not," my beautiful wife said.

Yet Sam confessed.

"Remember the laundry that you folded the day you left?" He asked.

I distinctly remembered it because I had almost missed the plane to get the laundry ball rolling.

"We finally switched the load from the washer to the dryer...yesterday."

So.

The relaxed camp atmosphere is gone.

Camp Clifford is once more closed.

"Yo! Put your glass in the dishwasher," I said.

"When you going back to Vegas?" Sam asked.

They need me here.

If my trips were any longer I'd find them buried in an avalanche of filthy laundry and takeout boxes.