I’m back!  Despite it being very convenient to get Internet access in Dublin, I decided I was enjoying my disconnect with the real world too much.  I did however keep my paper journal and I’ll transcribe a few bits when I’m more coherent.

The trip, in short, was fabulous.  There are things I’d try to do differently, mostly just to cram more into my schedule or save a bit money now that I know better.  And there are places I didn’t get to see, but I knew that would happen with such a short trip.  I think next time, and I can’t wait for next time, I will fly into Shannon and see that side.

I wrote this on the flight from Dublin to O’Hare yesterday afternoon:

“They say getting there is half the fun and I agree.  But unless you are in a mustang convertible with good music, an open road, and news for your parents that you a) left a man b) lost a job c) are keeping the baby, travel home should be instantaneous.”

I was so anxious to get home, see my kitties, and of course ST.  I raced through customs because my connecting flight was only in an hour and a half, to find it had been delayed by weather for two hours.

After I (finally, thank you O’Hare check-in/security lines) plopped down at my gate, inhaled McDonald’s (first time this year I believe any golden arches has passed my lips), and rearranged my luggage to some form of not-everything-will-fall-out-of-your-purse-at-an-inopportune-moment, I called ST.

He was out on my patio.  He’d already fired up the computer to check for more flight delays, fed the cats, cared for the rose, and vacuumed.

“I went looking for some parsley for Cocoa.  Um, do you want me to do some grocery shopping for you?  Because there is nothing there.”

I’ll admit, as sweet as this was and as pampered as I feel, I jumped on it.  Because I knew there was no damn coffee in the place.  I repeatedly turned down the offer for more because there’s only so much a girl can take before she feels she’s taking advantage.

We got off the phone so he could wrangle dinner for himself and I could stare at the line of frazzled passengers at the payphone bank trying desperately to not stay in Chicago that night.

I got in around midnight.  Fell right into a huge hug.  I wanted to try and stay awake until he left for work at 3am so I could maximize our time together, but I flaked out in the end.  It was too soothing wrapped up in his arms.

Now I’m up and groggy and arguing with my body about being sick because I don’t have time for it.  (When the fuck will I learn to take Emergen-C when I fly?)  I have bills to pay, schools to harass, laundry to wash (and, fingers crossed, dry), and a million other things to get done.

Somewhat peckish, although I couldn’t for the life of me tell you what meal I think I should be eating right now, I went to nuke a tortilla so I could slather it with peanut butter.  But there were lemon poppy seed muffins in there already.  Because on our sixth date I told him lemon cake is my favorite.

Damn it’s good to be home.