Home home home.

[mrissa]

We came down through the clouds last night, and suddenly there was my city, sparkling golden and shot through with black rivers. Hello, gorgeous, I whispered. Did you miss me?

It didn't give me the fireworks, the rose petals, and the peach muffin I got when we came here to look for houses -- and yes, I'm being literal there: when I arrived here to look for houses, the airport carpeting was strewn with rose petals under my feet. But the quieter good of having the house in the first place, of having home be home, is better than rose petals any day, in my book.

markgritter has non-con crud, poor dear, and I'm worn out from all this fun, and so I think we're going to have a quiet day, pizza for dinner, sorting through laundry and loot and that sort of thing. More in the way of con report later.

Comments

[lotusice.livejournal.com]

I found that as good a time as I had, I was awfully glad to be home, too. (And hallo, it's me, Kate.)

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Hallo, it's you, Kate!

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I have lost track of the airline ticket on which I had you write your preferred e-mail address. If you e-mailed me (my gmail is marissalingen), I could send you hockey fantasy.

[lotusice.livejournal.com]

sound of sonic boom as I bolt for email

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

You should have four stories in your inbox now.