aaaaahhhhhh

so sweet to be back home.

i don't remember feeling so relaxed at bransford. cozy. that couldn't be correct; this is such a bigger space on a frigging highway next to bransford.

di and i managed to wheel into the driveway at the unheard-of, unspeakable, unbelievable and uncordial wee hour of 3ish. we happily unloaded the volv and turned off the burglar alarm. diana, in a hurry to visit one of the smallest spaces in the house, was astonished when i mentioned watering the plants, but it's true; the peace lily was sad indeed, lamenting our absence.

she said, "it's weird, the house smells like bransford!" ah, another reminder of my dna. acute sense of smell.

so we washed our teeth and our faces, and went into our rooms: a departure from the beginning of our trip, when she stayed here two nights before we left and slept with me both times. her parting words: "i don't think you'll need to get me up."

we both read in bed to cool down. i didn't last long, about two page of carson mcculler was all i could fathom before the words swam.

the bed is so perfect. i was out in less than 90 seconds, i reckon.

next thing i knew, i was aware the sun had risen but could care less. i was too far in the depth of cool jello-like rem to even consider weighing the choices of pulling myself up or relaxing into dreams.

then, the phone ring was the lasso. took two rings to figure out what it was. three rings to handle the machine.

she sounded sorry. i told her i would call later.

i am vaguely surprised i am here, blogging. the roasted vidalia onion smell should be having me ditch this confounded lapwarmer.

okay. done. ditched.