What I Did on my Summer Vacation, Part 1

Nothing like a fairly lengthy absence to make you feel like you need the Internet waaaaay more than it needs you.
Considering that I am an emotionally fragile, easily overwhelmed, slightly loony person who needs quite a lot of alone time: further considering that we have had some kind of company since just before the last day of school until two days before we left on vacation: taking into account that we vacationed with three other families and then the four of us spent twelve hours in the car together driving home....

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I am still feeling surprisingly well-disposed towards people. Other than myself. I sort of expected to be huddled in a corner somewhere at this point (probably the laundry room, where I have the most justification to be, plus there are big comfy only slightly smelly piles of linen and clothing in there). One of the people we travelled with called yesterday and asked us if we wanted to go to a movie and I said sure, and meant it, without even thinking "are you insane? We just spent ten days together! I don't even want your name to cross my mind for another seventy-two hours!"
Is this evidence of mental health progress on my part, or was it just the right kind of company and travelling companions? You know when you get up in the morning and the silverware is all in the wrong slots and the mugs are where the plates should be and there's a cheese grater in the bowl stack and sometimes a measuring spoon falls out and hits you on the head when you open the cupboard? That means you have a guest who got up before you and unloaded the dishwasher, and it totally rocks. You know when you have two children who aren't yours in the house but you're allowed to say to either one of them at any time, stop making that constipated pterodactyl sound right now or I'm going to beat you senseless, and there are no ill feelings? Isn't that the best thing ever? And so what if the charmingly offbeat artist uncle let my nine-year-old watch Caddyshack? It made him feel cool and grown-up and he still thinks the worst word in it was 'turd'.
More on Halifax and the Bay of Fundy and the harrowing sojourn in St. Julie, Quebec, later. Right now I think I will go spend that bit of quality time in the laundry room. Missed you, Internet.