The journey home was, however, a pain in the ass. The ballet got out half an hour later than the program said it would, and 10:40 is just damned late to just be starting your way home on a work night. I was going to have to do three tube hops to get home, but when I saw the first train on my hop wasn't due for 13 minutes, I decided to redo it as two hops, one which was apparently more of a long jump than a hop. Man, the District line from Bank to Earl's Court, what a freaking journey! When I finally got to my "changing to the train to Putney" stop, there was a train sitting on the tracks ... which sat there for about ten MORE minutes "due to staff shortages." Blow me. Anyway, it could have been worse, because it was supposed to go to Wimbledon and its last stop was actually MY stop, not the one before, to the chagrin of the other passengers. I hopped off and ran down the stairs and off on my little route home, which takes me by a newspaper stand that throws away its fading flowers and ... yes, a bunch of roses for me today! They're sitting in the French Press (as in this new life I have no vases) on the table in front of the window. Midnight a few minutes later, and I was in bed.
Sleep was a bit restless toward the end because I realized that when shadowdaddy wakes up tomorrow, all he's got on his plate is getting his bags packed and getting on the plane. He's got to be nervous. I wonder how his "not my going away party" is going?
PS: My new pillows said on the package they would have some "residual odor" and I might want to air them out. I didn't believe it, but it's true, they smell like scared duck. And they have little feathers that stick me. I want my old pillows back. And I want my old tea balls. I only have one here and it's too big. Bother.