In honor of the long party tradition of the Stanley house, I threw (with help from the usual suspects) a "housecooling" party on Saturday. A decent little crowd showed up; about 20 people or so. Plenty of room in the house, since there's no furniture. Naturally this meant that everyone avoided the house and collected on the front lawn.
Despite multiple promises to appear (among other things, to clear out her room full of stuff), Grace, once again, failed to drive up from L.A. There appears to be some mysterious cosmic force that surrounds southern california and bars all exit.
Late into the evening, Jon ressurected an old house tradition, Drinking Jack Straight From The Bottle. Jon took a swig from the 1.75L bottle (I don't think we ran out), put the cap back on, and slid it across the floor to me. I uncapped the bottle, took a swig, and sent it back. We repeated this process until, well, I can't say when it stopped, because that's when my memory of the evening cuts out. I woke up the next morning on my (empty) floor, with my outer shirt for a blanket.
After that, I went out to my car, drove home, and spent the rest of the day in bed.
As I told Jon later, I think this is one tradition that we should let die with the Stanley house.