A hard day's night.

My day started at 4:30am. I woke up in a bit of a haze, thinking, "nah, it can't really be time to get up?". But it was - and with only 3 hours of restless sleep to get me through. I hauled myself out of bed, started up the coffee, ignored the hungry yowls of Bossa, and got into the shower. Still moving slowly, I fixed myself some coffee and attempted to make myself look reasonable. Scott, still unconscious, managed to sleep through all of this until at 5:15am, I cruelly suggested that he get up and have some coffee so he could drive me to the airport. He's a good sport, and he will be rid of me for a week, so he managed to get vertical and get moving. Only took 20 minutes to get the airport and I was on my way. Easy check in, but drama at the security checkpoint when they made me take my brand new boots off and put them through the xray machine. What is that about? Do I look like a terrorist? I didn't know that the Danes were harboring WMDs. In their boots. I bought myself the latest Vanity Fair to make myself feel better. Then onto the plane, whole row to myself, slept for 2 hours. The only hiccup was getting lectured by the patronizing West Jet stewardess about the timing of my bathroom visit (does she not understand that bathroom emergencies do not care about turbulence?). Whatever. And the plane was freezing (that's how West Jet keeps their fares so low, don't ya know). All in all, an uneventful trip.

Now I am surrounded by my folks and Scout and Coco. Good times. Good food for dinner, good company, what more could a girl want? Well, I'd like my husband to be here, but that wasn't going to happen this trip. Instead, he is home taking care of our kitties and paying the mortgage. And that folks was my day. Tomorrow I will blog about how good it feels to breathe the unpolluted west coast air...if it weren't for Scott, and my job at the xbi, I would never come back.