So. Green Bay was awesome and perfect and full of love and squee, and I will refrain from mentioning every single person by name and talking about how fucking incredibly awesome they are and posting their picture and professing my undying love for them, because you would probably vomit all over your laptop.

I had a great time, seriously, and due to my copious drinking I did not have A Single Seizure, which rocked. I did, however, eat my weight in cheese and other Green Bay delights, so when I stepped on the scale this morning I found that five pounds came back with me. Five whole pounds.

It was worth it.

I got to see a lot of the old friends that I see every year that I love dearly, a lot of old friends that I haven’t seen in years and missed dearly, and I met a lot of new friends that I found to be really freaking cool, so it all worked out like a charm.

I always worry that my underlying social awkwardness is going to creep in and that I’m going to be the one who winds up hiding behind the potted plants, but all was well and I think I did OK. I sang karaoke with only moderately shaky hands and even danced. I fell, as is par for the course, but I danced.

(I actually fell while trying to smack someone in the ass, so in retrospect, the fall was probably a deserved fall.)

Today I am feeling that sort of mopey post-Green Bay depression in which, Hey! There is no group of forty loving, hugging people around me! And lo, I am Alone! The Sadness! It overwhelms me! And so I am doing my seventy-five loads of laundry and drinking lots of black coffee and feeling sort of verklemmt, but it’s all good, because I had four days of love and fun, and damn it, it was special.

The cat was so happy to see me arrive home that she actually shook.

The child leaped up from his video game, gave me an enormous hug, chastised me for going away, and promptly parked himself back in front of the video game console.

It’s nice to be missed.

In my absence, the stove man came back and informed my mother that our stove is an evil machine that emits far too much carbon monoxide and must be destroyed, so this week I must purchase a stove.

This seems to be a huge waste, since we are moving and will have to leave the damned thing here, so I am going to buy a cheap-ass reconditioned one.

In other news, I have to quit smoking before the move and I am thinking of doing it sooner rather than later. I smoked a LOT this weekend, and I am sounding about as gruff as Barry White on cigars and feeling about as icky as someone who has ingested bleach.

I think next week I’m going to get a packet of nicotine patches and just do the damn thing.

Sigh.

I will miss you, peppermint-patty ultra-light menthols. We have had a lot of good times, and I will miss you a lot, but it’s time for me to get to steppin’.

Double sigh.

Happy Monday.

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