I'm sitting here with naught but a towel, with little to no sense of family and eating fudge that is filled with rum. (And that is not mine.) Ah. Although I am beginning to be annoyed by the dampness of my hair; I might investigate the possibility of a hairdryer. But not until the rum is gone! And so we sit and we wait for Ian. Last night I was screaming at Megan to tell Ian to take his clothes off. Oh how a small amount of raspberry vodka does go to ones head. Hark, is that he now?