I didn't tell anyone in my family I was going to Cleveland. Mainly, that's because I haven't told anyone in my family I have a blog. Besides, they're always all up in my damn business. Do I have to tell them everything?

But, because they call every day to get all up in my damn business, Dilf was forced to tell them I wasn't there, that I was visiting friends, friends he believed were related to Mrs. Kathy somehow. He did tell them that my trip was my Christmas present.

Now, it helps that my family doesn't believe that Dilf gets anything straight and that he forgets things the moment he hears them. That is partially true. However, they have concocted their own version of the truth, which is:

I had a nervous breakdown and ran away to the Mental Hospital. This is partially true; I did visit that shrine. I stayed for Mass and listened to an aged priest talk patiently for ten minutes, explaining to the attendees that they are NOT possessed by the devil, but should continue taking their meds and listening to their doctors.

So, now my family is talking very calmly and slowly to me. My sister-in-law, the former Cuntzilla who was mysteriously cured of her cuntiness by giving birth last May, asked me enviously, "You mean you just ran away? We can do that?"

I think I'm going to enjoy this. If they irritate me in the slightest, I can start to tremble and allow my eyes to fall out of focus. I think this could work to my advantage!