home again, home again, jiggety jig

So happy to be home in my own bed again, with my own pillows.  Call me a princess (okay, Princess), but I'm very particular about my sleeping arrangements.  I'm no longer 20 years old and fine to crash anywhere.  These days, I need soft sheets, copacetic sleeping temperatures, a quality comforter, and absolutely perfect pillows.  The first three are negotiable, but shitty pillows can trigger migraines.  Welcome to my fkn life.  I have a mound of old pillows in my spare bedroom from ones that I've bought, tried, and discarded.  I asked my sister when she visited last year if any sucked that I could throw away.  She said they were all fine.  I'm just a fkn Princess, trying to evade the eternal pea.

Kitten was very mad at me and equally happy to see me.  There was a lot of yelling snuggling.

And I can finally get back into healthy eating.  Sigh, I'm sure I've undone almost all the progress I made in the last month by eating animal organs and greens.  Also I had to text politely all week, and my phone forgot all the swear words I've taught it.  I've undone progress in many facets of my life. 

I bet you're wondering (or not) how well I did with my anxiety nonsense.  I was pretty good almost the whole trip.  I barely had to snap my rubber-band more than a few times a day.  But, I hit an emotional wall at the airport on my way home.  I drugged myself up to get ahead of the migraine.  I failed.  Not sure if the emotional wall was from my overexposure to what felt like millions of people or a precursor of the migraine.  Or both. 

My flight home was as entertaining as it could be with a migraine whilst trying not to vomit or cry.  The man next to me was reading Gun Buyers Annual 2016 magazine, while wearing a custom-tailored dress shirt. My curiosity finally got the better of me after I watched him read the whole thing cover to cover.  So, I started talking to him.  He was a very refined man who has a serious gun hobby, and his favorite is a Ruger 9mm.

Just when I thought my socializing was over, the woman on the other side of him started a conversation with our flight attendant about her shoes.  And swore up and down about how comfortable this brand was, while still being stylish.  Of course, I had to jump into a comfy shoe conversation because most women don't seem to value that as highly as I do.  She also promised me that their narrow was actually narrow and not the former medium in accordance with vanity sizing.  They both gave me recommendations.  And then the Ruger man jumped in, too.  We talked comfy shoes for a good 15 minutes.

And just when I thought my socializing was REALLY over, my airport chauffeur turned into a Chatty Kathy about race-cars, motorcycles, Formula 1, MotoGP, Dani Pedrosa, Lamborghinis, etc.  It was a nice distraction, rather than focusing on the pain I was in.