Sweet Home Chicago

Ah. Chicago. My apartment. My cat. My neighborhood. My coffee. My my my. me me me. Chicago.

My flight was fairly uneventful, I sat next to a very tall Danish guy trying to get to Miami, but rerouted through Chicago. I didn’t sleep much, read a lot, and rewatched Lost in Translation.

Basically, I’m home safe. My cat is alive and remembers me. I have four soft pillows to cradle my jet lagged brain tonight.

More tomorrow, as I regain the ability to function.