It's Christmas Eve. I'm sitting in Logan Airport in Boston. We drove from Royersford, PA last night, and what should have only been a 5 1/2 hour drive ended up being an 8 hour drive with holiday traffic. But praise God! my flight seems to be on-time. I'm suppose to be boarding in 20 minutes, and I'm soooo excited to be heading back to the West Coast!
It was a mystery how I got everything stuffed into two check-in bags. They were nice and let me check my sleeping bag (from my Bozeman couchsurfer/friend, Ray) for free. However, with my messed up back (so excited to be flying home to my chiropractor!), I knew I shouldn't power through with all my luggage (not a lot of luggage, but a LOT is packed in with Christmas gifts and whatnot). I tried paying twice with my card for a cart, and I'm not sure if it went through. I ended up paying cash. I've been checking my bank account to make sure I didn't get charged. Otherwise I would have paid $9 to push a cart about 200 feet. I feel dumb getting a cart, maybe I should not have got it, but I'm aching so much in my elbows and back. So is this what old age feels like? (just kidding...sort of)
Next time I write will be from Califooooooornia, my beautiful home state. I know now I will probably never want to leave it on any permanent basis.
Merry Christmas, dear void.
