I'm hooooooooome. Wow. It feels good to be back in Midwestern Town, but a little odd too. I walked in the house and asked, "What's that smell?" Turns out the smell in the house was the house. I guess that must have happened when I came home from Paris in fourth grade too, but then of course it was summer and the windows were open.
Newark is perhaps one of the most simultaneously annoying and comfortable airports ever. It's size is quite manageable, but my flight was also quite delayed, so I became intimately acquainted with the seats in the gate, and just how long you could slide down into them before a)your back broke in half or b) you slid off the edge and onto some poor businessman's suitcase.
Luckily I ran into HSClassmate, herself relocated onto my flight, so we chatted and did our homework. She read a chemistry textbook. I read The Virgin Suicides. At one point we looked at each other and started laughing hysterically. Uplifting reading material, we did not have.
In the car ride home I talked Mom's ear off about my classes. I think she enjoyed that.