Today was my first day home in what felt like a thousand years, even though it was only four days. For some reason I find 'work travel' far more draining than travel for pleasure; it's not that I actually mind being away for a few days, doing ____, but I always think about the plane crashing, and how as it's going down, I'll think to myself: 'I'm really dying out of a sense of obligation,' which is not at the top of my Morrissey-informed death scenarios.
But I made it home in one piece, and we (as in all five us: me and Stephen and Dante and Zephyr and Elektra) spent the day napping, away from the sullen weather outside.
The skies cleared for a few minutes at sunset, and we all woke up to spend a few minutes with the sixth member of our modern family, the George Washington Bridge.
'And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure - the privilege is mine'
Dante (via the Smiths, obv)
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