All of the above.

Crazy old bastard wanted to go back to Florida today instead of tomorrow. But I put my foot down and told him that I needed a day to decompress. He asked me what the fuck decompress was supposed to mean, called me a Mary, then agreed to leave tomorrow morning. But he's still only grunting instead of talking. My biggest fear right now is reminding him that he can't have meat today because of Lent. If it's not too bitter out tonight I'll take him over to City Island for some scungilli.

And thanks, Kiddo. Much appreciated .