Home. Yay.

We’re home.  It’s late.  Words of wisdom: a baby at 30,000 feet in six square feet of space is to travel in a space ship made of gun powder powered by nuclear bombs traveling directly into the sun.
 
I have a nose bleed from the air travel dehydration.  The door was locked when we arrived and there was no house key on the car’s key ring.  I climbed a fence and cut my hand to break in.  And, it’s currently eighty two degrees.  No breeze.  There will be words and pictures from the trip tomorrow.  For now, I’m going to climb into my own bed, put my face in my own pillow (conveniently red colored) and sob myself to sleep.  It was that sort of day.
 
Good bye Gulf Breeze.  Hello airless ball of fire also known as Washington D.C.  Heat wave! A whole one hundred degrees on the thermometer tomorrow?  Awesome.  Maybe I’ll mow my dead grass.
 
P.S. – On Sunday, the Netherlands will win their first World Cup.  I will dress in Orange body paint and set the neighbor’s car on fire to the cry of Hup Holland Hup in wanton European one man mob style celebration.  And it will be good. 
 
I may be arrested.

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