Home(?)

Je suis en Rochester. <- Anna, look! I'm practicing!



Um. Well. After 1. deciding to leave early, calling my mom, packing in 30 seconds, and crashing out the door to the airport, being told to come back at 11 pm for the red-eye to chicago, trucking everything back home, coexisting with Krista, Andre, and Gordon for a few hours, being denied a ride to the airport by Gordon, hauling my ass, et. al back to the airport, having the plane break, gettinga new, smallerplane, not having a seat, getting rescheduled for the 11:53 AM flight, getting back on the thrice damned train, meeting three guys, getting to numbers, and getting walked to my doorstep, breaking it to Andre that he would not, in fact, get my badass bed to stretch luxuriously on (NOT! have you seen by bed?), farting around till sleepytime, waking up, going to the airport, going thru security, getting to the gate, meeting Jim the mine technician and getting his business card (in case I ever need a rock crusher installed?), getting the flight delayed two hours, boarding (whee! global alliance rocks! first one on!), getting delayed another 45 minutes ON the plane but not yet to the runway, getting off the ground, sleeping, drinking horrid more-high-fructose-corn-syrup=than-cranberry cran-apple ocean spray airplane-beverage, sleeping, landing, finding I hadn't missed my connection to detroit because THAT plane had been delayed an hour and a half, and taking off and flying...after ALL that, I made it to Detroit. It only took me 15 hours. Ish.



Landed, mummy brought the siblings B and C, driving, gabbing, homeing, gifting and being shown around mum's projects-in-progress tour of our house (including my bedroom, by the way, looks to be interesting), the family went to bed, and I went to James'. Um.



Comfortable couch-sitting ensues. Frustration is voiced. Calm. Jabber. Roundabout updates on 'sex' lives A and B (not to be mistaken with sibling B). Lifestyle conversations. Astrology conversations. Nutella, bread, milk, and cigarettes. Couch sitting. Catching up. Departure right on time (4:00 am used to be my chronic leave-taking, it happened spontaneously, I decided to go and it was 4:01). Grab shirt, move to put on. Hugging. Stagger, finish 'packing up'. Get held in that dreadful almost-hug face-facing embrace that demands either a kiss or an akward hasty retreat. I am not who I was, entirely. Kiss. Kiss kiss kiss. Break. There she goes, fucking with shit again. You get what you ask for, sometimes. Nevermind the consequences? Always mind the consequences. They bite you in the ass no matter what.