Son, you must take my word/If there’s a God in heaven/He has a silver Thunderbird

So, I’m home and unpacked.

For students of feline behavior, I can report that I was not in the least snubbed.  Scrabble, in fact, ran to me the moment I came in, declaiming loudly.  I believe the gist was something on the order of, “I had to run this entire establishment by myself for a whole month!  You take over now!”

Mozart and Socks were more low-key, but have conspired to keep me pinned down most of the day.

What part of the day was not taken up with various Triumphant Return activities was taken up with bill-paying and the sorting through of paperwork.  Yanno?  I just did a whole month where the only thing my brain had to think about was. . .story, and characters, and what-happens-next; which is apparently my comfort zone.  Arithmetic hurts.

Actually, I used to contend that arithmetic hurt when I was a kid.  Nobody believed me, of course, but I may actually have been telling the truth.

Anyhow — home, and settling in.

Just in case you were worried.


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