So.  I moved on.  After those moments of really, really angry, of course.  And after I cleaned up the red Faygo from every single surface of my in-law's beautiful, perfect, white-walled, glass-tabled, Halloween-decorated kitchen.  And fought to keep an internet connection in their house (after fighting to even have a connection at the hotel) for long enough to reserve a new hotel room (because, you see, I had to move the kids and myself out of the hotel we were in this morning.  It was simply the most repulsive, irritating room I had ever, ever stayed in.  Ever.  And that includes that interesting room we slept in for two nights in Myrtle Beach in 1993, Melissa.  And the cabins and dorms at all of those camps during my summer on Heirborne tour.  And the houses we stayed in through my 4 years of Believers.).   When those things were over...and Seth gave me directions (from the car on his way home from wild boar hunting with his Dad) to get to the beach...we headed out and spent a couple of wonderful hours at Indian Rock beach.  Came back and checked into our new hotel (I've decided we're just going to choose Best Western every time from now on), had dinner with my in-laws, spent an hour at their house while the kids played guitar hero, and then crashed at the hotel.

It's vacation.  So, it's fine.  But it really has to get better tomorrow.  No more broken, too small showers, bathroom fans so loud they scare your afraid-of-the-dark children who then choose to use the bathroom in the dark instead of turning on the light, exploding soda bottles, stupid boar hunts, floors so dirty you won't let your children sit on them, unreachable sisters-in-law, in-law parents who feel terrible about all of the stuff going wrong, fighting over the condition of the van after spending the majority of three days in it...none of that.  Tomorrow, we head to the Tampa Aquarium.  Tomorrow we spend the whole day as a family.  Tomorrow...we start our vacation.  

The end.