BH: 774

At about 3 a.m. I discovered the secret of sleeping in our hotel room: The air conditioner. Argh. So given that falling asleep had been difficult, we slept in again. Had a pleasant lazy early lunch at Chili’s (chicken fajitas for me and Cajun chicken over penne alfredo for Ken), then meandered up to the airport in more than plenty of time. Browsed in a magazine shop, then sat at the gate and read. The flight to Chicago was uneventful, but in some ways too short, because we knew we’d have to say goodbye at the other end. We scarfed a couple of loaded hot dogs (startingly green relish, mustard, two kinds of pickles, and fresh hot green chilis) and then I walked Ken to his gate, where he almost changed to a later flight in exchange for a free flight, but the later flight turned out to be full. I went to my gate and got my aisle seat changed to a window seat, boarded, and after sitting on the runway for far too long, here we are in the air. Yeehaw. At least it’s only four days until Ken comes home, and then he’s home for more than a week (he may have to go back to Portland for a couple of days before T’giving).

My left contact has been bothering me; it seems to do that periodically, at which point I put in an old one for a few days. I’d done that before I left, but put the regular one in for the trip. Bad move. I think I’ve scratched my cornea again (don’t panic, Mom, it’s minor and I’ve done it before w/o any permanent damage). So I’m wearing my glasses right now. Problem is, when I put on my glasses, that’s a signal to my body that it’s time to sleep. Combined with blurry vision in my left eye, all I want to do right now is nap. But if I do that, I’ll completely throw off my sleep schedule and never get to sleep tonight. The things I have to suffer through, I tell you.

I’ve written a few e-mails. This flight feels very slow, probably because I feel very tired. Argh.

Sometimes, I’m not sure it’s worth coming home.

Let’s see. Despite the fact that I scrubbed the master bathroom floor and “don’t pee here” stuff down, Eclipse (the most likely candidate) again peed on the floor. I had two story rejections waiting for me—“Seeds of Hope”, which had made it to the second round at ASIM (in the end, it wasn’t light enough for them. It’s a very positive story about getting over grief. And they rejected flat-out the funny stories I sent them. Bloody hell.) and “Testing the Waters” from the Spirits & Sleuths antho (because it took too long to get to the mystery aspect). I opened the fridge to find ants crawling down the centre between the fridge and freezer, and along the top and bottom—they were coming from behind the fridge, over the top. I then opened the freezer to find them in there, too. Most of them in a clump by the edge of the door, apparently in their last-ditch effort to escape before they froze to death. (This actually made me feel a lot better, imagining the ants franticlly try to escape and then freezing to death. I know. I’m bad. But they were in my fucking _freezer_!) I decided at this point that I needed a drink, so I turned around to get a wine glass. And discovered all of the glasses on the third shelf up were knocked over and the shelf liner was all crumpled. Oh, great, look where the cats have gotten to now. Nothing was broken, though. I looked at it later while I was on the phone to Ken (I called him to make myself feel better) and discovered there was a shot glass sitting inside another glass. Must ask Dennis about this. I’m reasonably certain that Grimoire, despite the prehensile thumb claw, did not pick up a shot glass and carefully place it inside another, bigger glass.

I miss Ken. Sucks. Sucks coming home to an empty house (well, except for the cats, who seemed happy to see me, despite their various obvious transgressions during my absence).

On the plus side, I did get nearly 1000 words written on the plane. I’m going to try and write a bit more tonight. It’s almost 10 and it’s tempting to curl up with a big bowl of popcorn and watched the eps of “Charmed” that I’ve taped.

Overall, I have to say that it was a wonderful, truly wonderful, weekend. It’s the first time in a long time that we’ve relaxed and done little, or done just what we want to. It’s nice being away from home and not looking at/thinking about all the projects that need to be done (although we did talk about them a little, looking ahead at stuff). And so many of our weekends/vacations are either SCA events (which have associational busy things going on) or bike rides (which involve movement every day), so this was really nice. Re-connecting, not having responsibilities. Good food, good friends, no pressure. I imagine the four day Homeless Waifs party will be similar, although I’m kinda planning on taking the laptop and locking myself in a room alone for, say, one hour each day (that’s not too much to ask, is it?).

I’m a lucky person. I know that. My life has been blessed in so many ways. I live and love with my beloved. I have incredible friends and family. I have a lovely house. I have silly cats. I’m doing what I love doing, both with writing and the SCA. I’ve been able to do an astonishing amount of travelling. No, it’s not perfect—I could go on for quite some time about wanting a maid and a bigger house and more publications—but those are things to work towards, to look forward to. Life, as Tommy Shaw says, is good.