Many moons ago my then-husband and I went to San Francisco on vacation. We went to a moderately upscale restaurant on the pier for lunch and ordered whatever the main dish was, probably fish of some sort. The waiter asked what side I would like, and thinking I was being posh, asked for a baked potato. He looked at me disdainfully and said, “We don’t DO baked potatoes.” Embarrassed, I asked what he would suggest, and he said, “French fries.” Ooookaaaayyy….
How could a sitter cancel when she lives with her mom, her sister, and a teenager? That’s the part I don’t get. Of course, we wouldn’t have a plot, so there’s that.
Doesn’t sound like much suffering is going on.