Vindication

In case you doubted me*:

We're back in the Holler after a one-day stop in Winston-Salem to visit my friend Caroline and her family.

I met Caroline back in college. She used to be a lot of fun, but now she's a veritable Stepford wife, obsessed with fitting in and having the perfect home and family. She runs her household with the crisp, humorless efficiency of the Swiss railway system. Woe unto the child who tracks mud indoors. Her three sons seem a little more rabbity every time I see them; they're obviously beginning to crack under the pressure.

Are you reading this, Caroline? I hid the end of that tuna salad somewhere in your house. If you don't find it soon, it'll come find you.

When I finally reached my breaking point, we escaped to the less formal setting of Reynolda, the House That Cancer Built. Originally the seat of the R.J. Reynolds clan, it is surely the largest structure ever to be described as a bungalow. I have to admit, though, it is remarkably livable and cozy for its size.

* You really should know better.