Just got a call from Dad (of all people) asking (or rather, telling) me to come home for Easter. Apparently Mom didn't want to do it. I'm concerned because she sounded extremely pissed or extremely depressed (sometimes its hard to differentiate the two) over the phone this week. If I have to put up with being grilled by those two when I go back home I'm going to do the Death Waltz with my old bottle of meds, I swear by all that's holy.