chelidon

Storms across the eastern seaboard caused cascading flight delays, which means I didn't get home and abed until 430 this morning. Feh. The last leg would have been sleepable, but for the screaming child who began wailing as soon as the plane began to move and did not stop until very haggard dad carried him out the gate in Manchester, and the very large, very smelly woman who sat next to me and a good bit into my seat as well. Not one of my better flights.

I had to get up around 715 this morning to take my son to his BMX camp (from which he has collected a wide variety of abrasions, but, y'know, apparently that's the price to be paid for "getting maximum air"), and then off to work, where a week's worth of work awaits, inconsiderately ignoring the fact that I have teh sleepez.

On the other hand, I get to go have lunch now with my Ravishing Partner, and that's always a good thing. No doubt our conversation will be absolutely scintillating (she waited at the airport for me for 4 hours last night/morning and got no more sleep than I), but hey, we can always stare at each other and blink meaningfully. Bedroom eyes or exhaustion? At some level it doesn't matter, it's just good to be home.