I was okay when the Offspring formerly known as Resident strongly hinted that it was time for her hovering parents to leave. I was fine riding shotgun on the 12 hour trip back home; the empty back seat did not even loom that large. But oh, walking in the front door, I realised just how utterly my world had been turned upside down.
The cat, famous for her silent meows and for her superior attitude toward the (former) Resident Offspring, was shell-shocked, prowling from room to room, calling out for the missing human. But I was tired, and although our technical difficulties with skyping the FRO were disappointing, they were issues I could put off till today. Doing laundry was a mistake, at least stripping the bedding in the former RO's room was. I feel badly for the Spousal Unit. Not only is he also dealing with missing his kid, he now also has to deal with a weepy wife.
I expect that the basement torture chamber will see a good deal of action over the next while, as I plan to log quite a few miles on the elliptical to help ward off those blues. The house is probably going to be cleaner than it has been in years as well. So hey, if you want to visit, feel free to simply drop by. No need to call first. You know I will be overjoyed to see you. I will likely jump on you and smother you with hugs and big noisy cheek kisses. I may very well even invite you to eat off my immaculate kitchen floor.
Over the next few days, I'll be reminiscing about some of the adventures we had in both London last weekend and Vancouver this weekend. There were extraordinary blogger meetups that were utterly sublime, there were scandalous tales surfacing at my mother-in-law's funeral, there was a suitcase full of humiliating family photos that came home with us, and there was no shortage in either city of bizarre moments that left me scratching my head.
Stay tuned. The zombie is back with photos and a few lies.