My brother is flying in tomorrow for some good laughs. The last time I talked to him was two days ago. He was in the process of checking into a hostel in Vancouver, the last stop on his adventure up the coast from L.A.. His departing words were, “I already don’t think I like hostels.” When he arrived to his room, this was scrawled on the bottom of his drawer. Appropriate welcome for my crotchety old brother.
