Someone is rocking out at Dulles

My wife and kids are great. I really have the best. I'm not self-centered enough to say "I don't know what I did to deserve them". Clearly I did nothing, the universe is a fickle place and somewhere some paragon of a father is stuck with a harpy for a wife and two snakes for kids.

To avoid boring you with a narrative, here are the hilights of our departure:

• Leave far too much to be done at the house (thanks Judy & Hubert, I can see where Elaine gets her wonderfulness from)
• Return Dollar rent-a-car van... to the Budget lot at Dulles. Whoops!
• Check 7 bags and 1 guitar case
• Quentin gets waved up to the cockpit and impresses the staff with his braininess
• Get situated in our seats (Premium Economy on Virgin Atlantic was quite nice)
• Stewardess brings Q a candy bar, compliments of the captain "to that smart lad"
• Mallory falls asleep halfway through the flight. Q falls asleep right before we land. Elaine and Emil don't sleep
• Land, go to baggage claim and collect 7 bags and... nothing. Guitar case is nowhere to be seen
• London is foggy. Go figure.
• Get to managed apartments in Notts to discover that the relocation company didn't tell them we were coming
• Panic
• Nice property managers get us situated anyway
• Later that night, after being awake for about 39 hours, sleep.
  

If you see someone playing a wine red Stratocaster at Dulles, punch them in the nose for me.