sometimes a touch.

First, jetlag sucks.

Second, my apartment is for sale. Again. This time, I don't think they are kidding. Realtors are calling. I'm acting like I'm still in Japan, at least for now. I have no idea where I will go or what I will do, but the point of decision-making is looking imminent. My lease expires at the end of December.

Third, my car, my beautiful baby, my chariot of thunder, has a big fat dimple in his cheek, thanks to a presumably white vehicle of SUV size that I suppose could not maneuver into one of those extra-wide Newark Airport parking spaces. No note on windshield. Just the dent, like a calling card or piss on a hydrant, enough of a mark I suppose that nothing further needed to be said.

Still, I am grinning like a dope. I am awake beyond my energy. My brain is back. Things are going right and well, and I'm incredibly, stupidly, simply happy, thanks to hugs and kisses and funny jokes, as usual.