The Rich Roach Motel

Over the weekend I had eleven extra people staying at my house. It was our annual Jacobson family reunion in Paradise and some of my family were coming from out of state and couldn’t pack the mass of camping gear required for their families, so they slept at my house and commuted into the festivities. My parents also stayed at my house since Dad is still recovering from shoulder surgery and needs a good mattress.

It looked like a frat house with people sprawled across couches, scrunched on loveseats, occupying mattresses and blow-up rafts on the floor, and even smooshed into our giant LoveSac in the family room.

I think we used every towel, pillow, sheet, comforter, sleeping bag, blanket, pillow case, quilt, and anything else made of cotton in my linen closet.

Jason and I shared a twin mattress on the floor of his studio. You might think that could be kinda romantic.

It wasn’t.

When we woke up after not sleeping Jason said, “Don’t take this personally, but I’m never sleeping with you again.”

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