I'm not tired, because I slept on the plane, and I've got an extra three hours, anyway. My ears haven't popped back yet. I have a cold, so I can't breathe, and my head hurts a little. I have to go to work tomorrow, work! I don't even remember what I was doing before I left. There's no one home but me, and the cat. And the worst part is, it almost feels sometimes like I never left.
But I did leave! I went to Seattle! They have mountains there, apparently! We don't have those around here. I stayed with counterfeitfake and he drove me whereever I wanted, which was nice of him, and I had veto power over the radio, which I didn't really have to use. I met Elvis Costello and shook his hand, and climbed up a mountain ("THE mountain", apparently), and got very drunk, and watched people get very drunk, and made lasagna and lots of other stuff I can't remember. Oh, I saw a football game, that was one of the awesomest things.
More lator. I was getting a little homesick, I'm glad to be home, don't get me wrong. It's just . . . vacation is over. I wish every day were a vacation. The world's so big, I'm worried I won't get a chance to see it all, before I die.