See, even Spencer thinks I don’t ever take a vacation. [Not that a family wedding is ever easily termed a vacation, but anyway.] But anyhow, I got home from Mississippi sometime late yesterday, afternoon, but I had the energy to go all of one place—to my own bed. I watched a little of my TiVo backlog, crashed, woke up, watched the Indy 500, crashed again, and now I’m here.

I started to say that I was “home”, but in my mind, “home” is that townhouse out in Madison where I’m not right now. It’s really kinda weird to be thinking this… but it’s true.