Me and Greta Garbo want to hang out alone together

I need some alone time. Especially after last week's family "vacation."

This is because vacations of any kind must be paid for. No matter how bad a time you had listening to your daughter barf on the plane, no matter how difficult it was to be mewed up in a single hotel room listening to your children bicker, you're still going to have to pay for the privilege of going on a family vacation. And pay with both money and toil.

So, what did I do on my first day back? Rest? HAHAHAHAHA. No. In addition to washing load after load of laundry, picking up the house, putting away suitcases, and getting the smelly stuff out of the refrigerator, I had to drive downtown to hear Bach's St. Matthew's Passion.

Was I in the mood for St. Matthew's Passion? No, I was not. I don't know about the rest of you, but I already know how it ends. Also, wasn't Easter, like--last week? And didn't I hear the passion according to St. Matthew then? Yes, I did. But hey, what's an extra crucifixion between friends?

OK, I'm not really that unappreciative. But after a week in church, and then a week traveling with my family, I wasn't really in the mood to drive downtown and listen to several hours of sacred music, even if my husband is the early music geek of all early music geeks.

So, alone time. I'm not getting it. And Jebus on the cross? Getting a little too much of it.

So I went to the concert with my husband. But I made him leave early.

Yes, that's right. I left Jesus hanging.