I’m home, and a bit exhausted. It was a beautiful day, and I took enormous pleasure in wandering around the garden in my dressing gown this morning while not being interviewed. Oh, how I love not being interviewed. I could spend several happy lifetimes not being interviewed, and between the not-interviews I think I could joyfully not get on planes. I could especially not get on the kind of planes that sit on the tarmac for three hours before taking off. I could not get on those planes with a smile on my face and a tip-tapping of my toes.
I’m a bit exhausted today too, having finally been forced to return with a great crashing THUD to Toronto time at an ungodly hour this morning, and then having rediscovered that we forgot to buy any kind of coffee — even my pathetic decaf — yesterday. Oof.
At least nobody is or was interviewing me at any point, and our airplanes left and arrived more-or-less on-time. I have unkind words for several ground crews, but standing around an airport is better than sitting around on the tarmac, and there are twenty-eleven coffee shops within spitting distance of my office, so I’ll file it all under First World Problems.