Not much time for posting these past few days.
Where I do have time for writing is here at the airport. Lots of time - my flight is delayed an hour and a half. Normally, I would think, fuck (see what happens when I'm in a bad mood? civilisation just takes a rain check), going to miss my connection. But no! Connection cancelled!
Yeah. My favorite airline is on strike, once again.
So the check-in kiosk put me through to Amsterdam and stranded me there. I could either go there and discover sort of ad-lib what the airline has in mind to get me where I'm going. Or I can wait in the Air France line with a lot of other perturbed passengers and find out here.
I have hours and hours so why not spend some of it in this nice line?
And when I get up to talk to somebody who knows something, there is indeed a later AMS-CDG flight that is still running, and a CDG-Clermont connection from there. Without even changing airports. I just have to spend 6 hours in Amsterdam, then three in Paris, and finally get to Clermont just in time to miss the last bus into town. I should just barely have cash for a taxi. So I left Linda's at around 8am and will get home to the cats at around 10pm tomorrow... that's 1pm here... a meer 29 hours of travel. That's if, of course, Air France keeps those planes running. One or both could get the axe at any moment. Will find out when I get there. Spending the night in Amsterdam would actually be fine.
I will have Sunday to recover (and possibly complete my travel).
I will have Sunday with Sienne meowing at me and Natalie constantly on my lap any time I sit down for five seconds and the Frumious Bandersnatch just being her fluffy self.
So how was it? How am I? Did this trip do me any good?
I definitely have a tan. I regained all that lost weight (dang). I saw friends I haven't seen in years, and they did me a lot of good. Every minute I spent with somebody I was ok. All the catching up and the rediscovering and the old places and the old foods and the love they wrap me in. It helps.
But it's like this finger. Somebody took my finger and replaced it with a piece of plastic and it really will be a year at least to regain proper function there. Today it is as stiff and useless as the day I took the splint off for the last time. And every time I went for a long walk for coffee or spent the day lazing around waiting for people to finish work and come home, there I was again with my thoughts and there he was on our vacation with her. There he was not being in love with me. One day I will not care, but it isn't yet.