Your grey-haired daughter loves you and knows how not to eat peanuts

My parents are here, oh them of the auspicous genes, having a nap at the mo while I don't, I repeat, don't go to the office, which is pretty great and makes up for any little niggling annoyance at being asked for the umpteenth time if I'm managing my food allergies properly or some such - God, no wonder I was such an asmathic little drip as a teenager. But in a larger sense I'm learning how to manage such little niggling annoyances - feel them and enjoy them. They're luxurious annoyances that not everybody benefits from and that I, assuming I manage a normal lifespan, will not always benefit from - not just because of mortality in his ugliest guise - but because of the aging process gradually reversing our dynamic of futile, unwelcome concern. So may as well benefit from the annoyances now. It all comes from love.

We've been having a nice time and eating superbly and now they understand why I hate my job, so will hopefully only worry the inevitable amount when I get fired/quit and hippy out. Drinking far more than I usually do; I think half the reason I became such a pothead is not liking drink as much as most of my family does. But it's fun. We went to my neighborhood's wine-tasting festival, which in a European context means something besides hipsters with nothing else to do that night sauntering around a congress centre being ignorant and putting on an act of slightly less ignorance. It means a big marquee full of overweight Belgians getting fucking sloshed on fine wine, peeing in the corners and then getting led out in handcuffs after paying a 10 euro cover. Frankly, it made me appreciate hipsters. I never thought I'd say that, but you try sampling wines in a tent full of moronic elephants sweating stale tobacco-scented grappa, and you'd appreciate hipsters too. It was fun, though, and then we went to my favourite tajine place. Generally we've been having a nice time. They're leaving in the morning. It seems dreadfully short, it's bizarre how these visits always seem so short when you're in the home stretch. Oh well.