Did I say I'd update from DC? Oops.

I'm back. I got home late Monday night on an Airbus filled with future Sprawl residents and a bunch of pre-law kids from Harvard. The one who landed in my row looked like a young JFK Jr. and laughed at my Trent Lott jokes. I kept my flirtation device off. Man, I'm getting old.

When I landed in Boston, I started thinking about being home. Then I realized I didn't have my keys. I knew exactly where they were, and they weren't in Boston. The movie version would have cut to a close-up of the keys sitting in the bamboo tray on the side table next to the door of the house in DC.

My building has a superintendent and I have copies of my apartment keys, so I wasn't concerned, just annoyed. My mother, on the other hand, was pissed (cut her slack, yo, she's recovering from something which almost killed her). I suggested calling FedEx and scheduling a pickup, which diminished her inconvenience. But still, how did I do something that stupid? This is the reason I have a carabiner on my keyring: so I don't lose my keys.

Anyway.

My cool super let me in when I got home. He even delivered a copy of my mail key today. Twenty bucks, sometime tomorrow, I have to remember. I love my super.

And I love my bed, where I spent the next fifteen hours or so, sleeping.

I've got some 'splaining to do about sleeping through class today (more precisely, sleeping through today), but I'll take right now to say that the idea of catching everyone up on everything that's happened in the past couple of days gives me hives. Here's the top of the hour:

• My mother is recovering. I'm glad that she had the strength to be pissed about the keys.
  
  
• There's a rumor going around that Big Network News will pull some of their reporters home soon; my father has a general ETA back from Kuwait, sometime later this week. I hope he isn't sorry that he's not going to Baghdad. (Check Reporters Sans Frontières about the deaths of journalists in Iraq, including three killed yesterday by American tank fire. Note that the British do a much better job than the Americans of not blowing up reporters and civilians.) So I'm happy he's coming home.
  
  
• My friend Tony deserves serious props. Twice! (To everyone other than Tony: not what you're thinking. ;)

This update is intended to clear a writer's block. The longer you wait, the harder it gets. Don't mind me.