(no subject)

Short version: the universe and the weather gods of California hate me. I am still travel-cursed. And Southwest is apparently the airline of Satan. I'm exhausted and sore and out of fifteen hours spent in transit only three of them were actually on the plane. I have mastered the art of carrying a quilt through a crowded airport and not shanking the people who stand in the aisle of the plane for ten minutes not moving when we are unboarding. I'm home in one piece, more or less.


Long version, which involves delays and medical emergencies and a really cute Marine, tomorrow when I'm not so tired my brain is dripping out my ears.

In the Phoenix airport, a guy walked into me who looked exactly like Rahm Emmanuel. That was absolutely the best part of my day.