I have been to Paris. A gargoyle from a shop across from Notre Dame is perched on my freezer. The Ones have dolls from an adorable store on the Ile de Saint Louis. Still, when I think of it - I have been to Paris - it's somehow wonderous.
As I smoothed conditioner on my hair, I realized it'd been one night shy of two weeks since I'd showered here at home. I'd toweled my hair dry before bed the Friday before last and snuggled into pajamas before untangling my hair tonight.
I had pizza with my parents and a former neighbor last night. I smiled when they talked about how I'd walked from the Eiffel Tower back to my hotel. They told her they'd seen pictures. That I'd been to London and Paris and Munich. And they too seemed somehow amazed.
I had planned to spend the remainder of this week recovering at home and hanging out with my parents.
I returned to my house today because I'd been summoned. When the secretary of the boss of my boss's boss asked after my availability, I basically said it'd take me four hours to make the drive if it was OK to show up in pajamas and with my dog and cat in tow.
In fact, I asked for and was granted until Friday morning.
I actually think he wants to congratulate me on an award. I'm not normally so arrogant but I received email notifying me of the prize before anyone had given official notice that I was winning anything.
I asked Adam to check to make sure I wasn't to have anything prepared. He wrote back with a smiley face so I'm pretty sure I'm OK.
I went to sleep last night, nearly incoherent with exhaustion, at 8:00PM.
I awakened, sure it was time for coffee and conversation, promptly at 2AM. After frowning at the clock, I curled up with Mr. Sprout and did some work before I got sleepy again.
Speaking of the pretty kitty, His Sproutness has returned home after a lengthy stay with his grandparents. He went before Thanksgiving and returned after being cruelly captured and riding in the dreaded car.
He seems to be quite pleased though - he just came to say hello and nibble on the food in his dish.
Chienne immediately went out to investigate her yard, bark her hellos at the neighbor dogs and has now returned to her favorite spot in my closet to sleep under my dress suits.
I'm nearly out of dog food. I'd forgotten and for a moment wished I could call the front desk and have someone fetch some for me. Then I realized I'm not a valued guest any longer and would do the fetching myself.
I'm so tired it hurts. My goal was to make it until 9:00 tonight but it's not going to happen.
I have, however, unpacked.
Washing machines are miraculous. I took clothes that had been dirty for upwards of a week and jammed in a plastic bag from my first London hotel. I remember thinking I could never wear some of them again, having been through lengthy visits and plane rides and wrinkling my nose at the crumpled mess of them. But I pulled them from the dryer - all fresh and fluffy and wonderful - and smiled over it.
Oh! I brought home Camembert from France, yes? It Smelled. Increasingly Badly. Unable to decide if I could continue tolerating the smell despite the bag's demand to remain sealed until I reached my final destination, I decided I was growing ill and tossed it in the garbage at O'Hare while waiting for my final flight.
My parents bought me lawn ornaments for my birthday, in addition to a gift certificate. They're rather adorable - a grinning bunny on a swing that I'll hang from the tree in the back yard, a silly golden frog on a stone and a happy bear with a pot of honey under his arm.
I can't think of anything else. I'm tired. But happy to be home. Yet somehow dreading going back to work tomorrow.
2 comments:
Welcome home!!!!!
welcome home! The comment about the front desk fetching dog food cracked me up!
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