So yesterday I finally came home.

My flight wasn't hideously early for once, it was a 12.30p flight so I didn't have to get up at the crack of God and was able to walk around saying goodbye to the house. Yes, I know that I have done this about nine times, since the Northridge earthquake was ten years ago on the 17th, but Mom is saying that the new house will be under construction in six months.

Anyway, better safe than sorry. Or better sentimental than sorry.

Mom dropped me off curbside at LAX and there was this huge long line in front of another airline. "Ha ha ha!" I thought, "I picked the right airline!" because there was a little small line in front of the America West curbside check-in.

So I checked in, then sat down and hung out with my mother for a little while, since I was so early. Then I looked at the time and figured that I really should go in, so I walked over to the entrance to the gates. But there was a line. That went out the door. And way down the sidewalk. It was, in fact, the line that I thought myself lucky to have bypassed in the beginning.

The line went far enough to be past the end of the terminal, we were standing by the planes. I think I was about 200 yards from the beginning of the line, and it was moving pretty slowly. I looked at my watch, and my plane was going to take off in an hour. I was a little worried, but then a woman came down the line and was asking when people's flights were and I was cut to the front of the line with the other frantic-eyed passengers staring at their watches in horror.

I ended up getting through quickly enough to stop at McDonald's and get some lunch, since they don't feed you more than a packet of peanuts on America West flights, not even if they are going all the way across the country.

The flight was really empty--everyone got their own row, it was a real treat.

We got to NY early, but ended up having to wait for half an hour for our gate. Then we went to the baggage claim and had to wait half an hour for our baggage. Then I waited for the bus for, you guessed it, half an hour. It took me altogether slightly under four hours to get home from the moment that the flight touched down.

I had called Cynthia about picking me up from the Port Authority the day before, but she had said that Jon was going to have the car that night, but he might get it home in time to get me. Then again, he might not.

He didn't. But I thought that I'd try to take the van. I have tried to take the van to Jersey before with baggage and been rejected unmercifully, but this time I limped forward and said, "I'll buy as many seats as you want me to," and they found room for my two big suitcases. I didn't even have to pay for an extra seat!

I got home and called for Baldrick. He was not to be found. I finally saw him peeking out from under the bed and tried coaxing him out. It took about twenty minutes.

He never goes under the bed, let alone under the bed all the way back by the wall. Cynthia said that that was where Monty went to die. Poor Balders has never been completely alone, not for a minute in his life, there has always been at least one other cat. I think that he was really freaked out by Monty's death. I think that I am going to have to get a kitten to keep him company sometime soon.

It's funny, if Monty had been the Last Cat Standing, he would have been thrilled to be an only cat.

Today's horoscope:
If you're so much better than others, why are you having such a hard time? Satisfaction is missing from your quest for perfection. No sane person should maintain this pace. You've already done so much.

One year ago today:
Instead of being one huge awful thing, it's lesser, medium-sized awfully things one after the other, it's like being beaten with a sock full of pennies in a dark room--you can't see where the next blow is coming from or if it's finished, so you're constantly either cringing or falling.

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Last Updated Tues 4 February 01:38:09 2004