Who's still on Cape Town time? Oh well, I've a shit-ton of Netfux, some Stewart/Colbert and some saved Tivo TV to tide me over. And pizza. And ice cream. And cupcakes. No shit on the cupcakes, check it out!
This cupcakery lives in Davis Square where my friend S lives. Lucky whore.
I forget the names of all of them cause the person who bought them is sleeping, as one should properly be doing at this hour ;) but the green one is Green Monster, which has chocolate beer ganache center with Sam Adams Cream Stout frosting. Next to him is cookie dough, then obviously Oreo. The strawberry one is strawberry shortcake. I will either ask or more likely, SAMPLE, the others and let you know what they are.
So I am back home safely! Though it should be noted it took not one, not two, but THREE Xanax to get me out of Cape Town! One normally mellows me a little and two will put me to sleep (as I found out when I tried to take two for a presentation in my comparative con law class in Sweden, misjudged the timing and ended up feeling the effects during my writing class after!), but the occasion called for it.
I met up with G and DM for beers, so I took one before dinner and drinking. G has her own car and left after a couple beers. My regular driver, CA, picked us up and I brought flowers for her. DM got dropped off first and I kept my shit together til I got back in the car, then I started a little, which if you know me, you know that means game over. I was fine until we got to my house and CA got out of the car to come around and give me a hug to say goodbye. Oh my, I blubbered. I haven't really cried in front of someone in quite a while! CA laughed when I told her about my Xanax and she said perhaps I needed another one! (So as soon as I went inside, that's exactly what I did!)
I said goodbye to everyone in the house--my house mom and my favorite daughter and my other flatmates (I was back to being cool and collected, yay that perhaps with age comes MODERATE control) and was picked up right on time for the airport. Our airport driver had his wife with him and I sat in the backseat and quietly cried a little more and popped my third one.
The airport was totally empty and I think I was the only person even AT security. I was cool again until the passport check girl looked at my stamp and said, "Wow, a month, did you like it?" I kept it together but I think she instantly regretted saying anything at all to me!
So I wandered around and found no accessible wifi, and there was no way I was going to drink anything else on top of my Xanax! Then just before exhaustion threatened to take my ass out, a huge crowd of people started making their way to my gate and I realized we could finally board. The guy next to me was Dutch and I think quite chatty. I was polite but I think I had fuck off vibes coming off me in waves; the woman next to him sat down and was also Dutch, so I was thankfully forgotten.
I don't remember take-off and I don't even know what everyone had for dinner. Breakfast was kinda creepy gross, like it always is, and I watched The Dark Knight until landing. By the way, according to their genre groupings, did you know that Amadeus, The Dark Knight and 27 Dresses are all "classics"? In any case, I was really in the mood for The Dark Knight; it suited my mood perfectly.
My gate was literally a five minute walk in Amsterdam, so I had over two hours to kill. I didn't want to change my traveler's cheques, because they are $100 each, you know? But I didn't have any Euro--well, I had 3 Euro leftover from my birthday in Amsterdam, but that would barely get you a water. Then it occurred to me, cause I'm totally smart and stuff, to just change my Rand over. Der. I like to think I'm bright but it saddens me how often the obvious stuff eludes me.
So I had a sausage pastry thing and two beers, and relaxed. Then? Yeah, then I tried to get on my flight to Boston and got pulled to the side and interrogated about my time in South Africa. Why were you there? Where did you stay? How well did you know the family? Did you know them before the trip? Hang on, wait here. Where is your whole itinerary? Hang on, wait here.
A woman had to check my name off a list because it was taking so long I was one of the last on. I told the guy interrogating me that should he wish to see my whole itinerary he should just pull up the fucking record locator since I booked it through KLM in the first fucking place. And really, what good is this questioning if you have half a brain? Yes, I packed all my shit and left it at the house while I had my last evening out, then came home and just picked it up. But I didn't fucking tell HIM that--I said I packed it all myself and then instantly took it with me.
South Africa, really? I can understand the farm questioning when I got back to Boston, but I really don't think "South Africa" when I think "international terrorism." Jesus, what if I'd lived in the Middle East for a month instead? I don't even want to know.
But most importantly, I have been reunited with Mouchette, who, although he won't purr for me yet, is doing that thing where he's on the floor next to me, making sure he's touching. ;)
Aw, now he's on the sofa (I'm sitting in front of it), rubbing his head on my shoulder. Awwwwwwwwwwwww.