TYPED MONDAY EVENING AT THE ARIPORT WAITING FOR CO-WORKER:

There’s something to be said for blogging in an airport. I am not sure if it’s just the unusual amount of unusual people that pass by or just feeling rather swanky typing on a laptop that I had to access via fingerprint. Either way I am happy.

And you know when else I was happy. That was Friday around 1300. I really don’t remember the last time that I sat at a restaurant and had no where else to go. Partly my own fault for turning into a self admitted workaholic these past two months, partly because when david and I do go out, we are rushing home to watch my tv shows, or not actually eating, only binge drinking. (which is actually the case more often than not) At any rate, sitting in the sun, getting third degree burns on just my left arm was exactly what I needed.

People in general just crack me up. The lady who shrieked (and I mean like she had been stabbed) who got to move over to the window seat. Entertaining. The gentleman bathroom (possibly suffering from a case of irritable bowel syndrome) who thought it was appropriate to use the back of my seat as some sort of catapult device each time he had to go and each time waking me up from my wentworth dreams – Not so entertaining. All in all still loving the traveling – I mean I thought that picking your nose (that’s not potty humour scarlett) could only be done a few different ways, but people never cease to amaze me and my list continues to grow. To be blogged about later.

The mass confusion that seems to take over the general population at an airport is truly uncanny. And I have found myself like that on the rare occasion, but honestly, that isn’t nitrous oxide that they are pumping through the air vents, so why does the vast majority of the population have to get off the airplane as if they’ve just done an eightball in the plane’s lavatory? Drug testing of future flights bathroom surfaces – possible.