Ah, the first post of a new year. Yesterday was long and painful, I managed to dump my little airline cup of Diet Coke into my crotch on the first leg of our trip home, where I was firmly planted in the middle seat. That was pleasant, at least I know what I'll look like when I'm eventually old(er) and incontinent. As will the next person who got that seat after me, I suppose.
The Popeye's Chicken in the Atlanta airport has the best chicken of any I've found so far, it must be the copious amounts they sell so I always get freshly fried chicken. Mmmm, chicken.
We landed just before midnight, it was fun to see all the fireworks going off around the city from that vantage point. We got home and, to be celebratory, opened the bottle of 'Asti of Unknown Origins', since it's nothing I'd ever buy purposely, and found that I have misplaced or given away our champagne flutes. They might be in a box, along with many of our other possessions.
But oh, what greater pleasure is there after a long trip than coming home to a clean, quiet house and sleeping in your own bed, with your own pillows and your own surroundings? I'm still a little crispy-fried from the trip, trying to rehydrate and make this throbbing headache subside. The rain is plopping and glorping against the concrete outside, and it sounds like an active deep fryer against the solar cover on the pool.
Happy new year, dear readers.