A Girl...

Nudge, Nudge

Hola, cats and kittens! Your hostess has returned. We got back Saturday evening at 5 p.m. and felt extremely accomplished that we were able to stay awake (mostly) and upright (kinda) until 8 o'clock. Jetlag's a bitch, but at least travelling westerly is always easier than easterly, as proven this time around by the fact that, fresh off a nine-hour flight and strapped into the backseat of Simon's sister's car heading away from Heathrow, I, all slumped like a jellied invertebrate and slack-jawed-drooling down my T-shirt, was almost indistinguishable from the four-month-old baby lumped next to me in her carrier. It was only eleven in the morning.

The only thing more boring than writing about jetlag would be writing about how much email I had to catch up on today--especially when I could be writing about The Baby! about The Ex-Pat Thanksgiving! about The Stonehenge!--but hi, I am at work and have many important things to do, like proofread a twelve-page, double-column index (kill me?) and complain about how the elevator still doesn't work. (But they fixed the one broken toilet! Finally! Although, wouldn't you know it, now the other toilet is broken. Is someone playing some kind of a joke or what?)

So for now this is all you get. Pictures and stories are forthcoming, yes siree, and boy oh boy are you going to be glad you didn't delete your agirlandaboy bookmark and forget about me forever and ever. I missed you (too).