I'm currently sitting in CDG Airport in Paris, watching Friends Trip--perhaps the worst French tele-reality series in the world, but also clearly the best--and awaiting my flight. It's just another plane, like the billion others I have taken this year, with a couple key differences: 1) It's not RyanAir. 2) It's taking me HOME.
Tonight, when I finally stop fighting the jetlag and lay me down to sleep, it will be in my own bed, at home in Washington DC. Cuddling my cat; I missed that little bugger. All in all, it's a mind-bending thought, although I know that as soon as I'm home, novelty will wear off within five minutes, to be replaced by simple comfort. (And, within a couple days, the yearning to go abroad again).
Friends at home, look out! I'm comin' in hard 4 hugz.
*This post has no photos, because I have broken all my phones this year. Mean streets of Europe strike back.*
Tonight, when I finally stop fighting the jetlag and lay me down to sleep, it will be in my own bed, at home in Washington DC. Cuddling my cat; I missed that little bugger. All in all, it's a mind-bending thought, although I know that as soon as I'm home, novelty will wear off within five minutes, to be replaced by simple comfort. (And, within a couple days, the yearning to go abroad again).
Friends at home, look out! I'm comin' in hard 4 hugz.
*This post has no photos, because I have broken all my phones this year. Mean streets of Europe strike back.*
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