Tired

I had a really nice blog post all written out in my head. In it, I was unbelievable funny. Stunningly clever words dripped from the ends of my fingers as I imagined myself typing out the most thought-provoking post for you lot.

But then I got on a plane and listened to babies crying, and people babbling; then I fought my way through a crush of sweaty bodies in Minneapolis before walking 42 miles in one direction to eat barely decent overpriced airport food, only to turn around and walk 42 miles in the other direction to board my plane; then I held my bladder for three hours before standing around waiting for my luggage to plop magically in front of me. And I waited. And waited. And waited.

When I arrived at the hotel I fought with the internet and drank some coffee and wrote a letter to my hubs, and now that sexy blog post I had perched at the front of my brain? Buried under layers of waiting and no longer accessible.

Sorry.

I'm in Rock Hill, South Carolina. It's deliciously humid and I'm sweating behind my ears, just like I like it.