My dad visited this weekend. Only, here's how the prelude to his visits go: Tuesday phone call Him: Well, I might come spend the day with you Sunday. Me: OK. When are you coming? Him: We might come Saturday night or maybe Sunday morning. I'll let you know. Me: OK. I have to work Saturday, but I might get off earlyish. Him: That's fine. I'm going to Hooters anyway. Yes, people. This is my father. People who know me don't really believe it when I tell them my dad's a biker and he likes to hang out at Hooters, which he doesn't have where he lives. ("They have good wings!" Riiiiiiight, dad.) Saturday morning, 9 a.m., phone rings Me: Hello? Him: We're on our way down. Me: What? Where are you? Him: We just left town and we're going to stop for breakfast. Me: OK, well use your key in case I'm not back when you get here. I have a gym class. Him: All right. But it'll be a while before we get there. Now, the trip takes about 2.5 hours. But they're stopping for breakfast. So... I figure they'll be here around 12:30 or so. So I get up, ready the guest room hoof it to the gym, catch 1.5 classes (they were short classes that day), get home, take a shower and as I'm coming down the stairs, they're coming in the front door. At 12:30. Not bad at all for that short of notice. I expected him, but with my dad, you never really can expect him. He's always on his own time table.