Oh hi there chickens.
I’ve made it back to my little (big) city in one piece.
I hung out in San Mateo for work until Monday night, when I hopped a red eye back home (note to everyone: SFO has a yoga room, with mirrors, wood floors, and mats. A sun salutation on your way out is a surprisingly nice way to relax before a flight. I still needed a xanax though.), zoomed home to sleep for forty minutes, did my best to make myself look a fully functioning human, and headed off to lead a big meeting where my job is to speak on behalf of employees to my CEO, among others.
Surprisingly, it seemed a tiny bit easier when I hadn’t had any sleep.
This is no long term strategy though, as far as I can tell.
When I finally made it back home, fried clams and chowder in hand (sometimes, you guys, when I’m really tired, I just need something from the homeland), JW and I allowed ourselves all the Downton Abbey there was.
My love for Masterpiece Theater knows no bounds, my friends.
This morning, I have the advantage of answered e-mails and nine hours of sleep with me, so I’m hoping for a more coherent day.
But then I’ve been hoping for that for a long time.
Enjoy this one, chickadees, and bundle up.