I guess we've just become "those people" who have some form of bad luck every time we try to take a vacation, no matter how big or small. 

Dear travel gods: we don't ask for much. We like to travel, but it's not always part of our checkbook. I saved up for a year for my trip to Canada with my sister, while we also saved for Pat to take a field trip with our son to Mackinac Island at the same time. It was our first getaway of the year.

And that's when our cat escaped.

Granted, Pat left a window open. And that little booger pushed the screen out like it was nobody's business. Thank goodness for great neighbors, who not only Facebooked us but texted us so they could get into our house and coax the kitty back inside.

Little did we know, this wouldn't be the first vacation folly of the summer.

A couple of weeks ago, we drove to South Haven to go camping. Everything seemed to be going well at home...until the dreaded text from another neighbor. The storms had blown over our mailbox.

She was sweet enough to grab a good portion of our rain-soaked mail, as well as to put the mailbox on our porch. Not the end of the world, but not convenient, either.

And finally, our surprise getaway. *sigh*

Pat and I rarely get away as a couple. Not as parents or a morning show...just as a married couple. So he planned a last-minute trip to Scranton, PA for a music festival. We flew out on Thursday morning, got back on Sunday afternoon. Figured the cats would be fine for a few days with some extra food and water, right?

Yes, they were just fine. They never ran out of water, but they must've been feeling extra dehydrated, because one of them jumped up on the counter of the bathroom, turned on the faucet...and it flooded into our basement.

It could've been so much worse. Luckily, our carpet is drying as we speak. However, the entire house smells musty, and our cats are definitely on our s**t list.

Which means they're being extra cuddly. *sigh* Fine, I'll take that.

In the meantime, we're not going anywhere. AT ALL.