reality, and the fine thing of being home

it turns out that 3 days = eternity
badly timed air travel and a crappy hand pump meant my first experience of engorgement on the way to las vegas (holy moly, how insanely uncomfortable)
remembered everything I hate about pumping
wore my bathing suit at a very crowded pool for about 20 minutes, simply out of principle
did not sleep nearly enough, and no where near as much as I do here.... very bad...
did virtually no appreciable inner work with the exception of some brief on-bed yoga (no, not a euphemism, sincerely, yoga on the bed, as the rug was wayyyyyyy too gross)  and some Reiki infused meditation.

Some great meetings and progress business-wise, and some very nice connections with people as people.  My boss took me on a long crazy walk the first evening/night through miles of casinos, and then the next evening I spent hours with a dear friend in nearby red rock canyon (glorious) followed by the single, hands-down, exquisitely best meal of my gluten free existence. (Japonais at the Mirage)

But the place? Yeah. Not so much. I pretty much hated everything about las vegas; you can have it.  Excessive excess, to the point of obscenity. I hated the smoke, the cloying air freshener, the sounds, the lights, the crowds, the too much of everythingness.  As a HSP I really had to gird my loins and dig deep and observe while taking in as little as possible.  The people watching was stellar, I must admit, but it was hard to even do that with just so much sensory flooding.

Arrived home bone tired in a way that made my usual everyday exhaustion look like nothing, and am right now off to bed at 8:02.  I am just over my last bug and Della has a new one, so I feel doomed.

I want to write more about lots of things, my belly's recent and unnerving unbalancing act, my amazing almost-2 Della, work stuff, life stuff. But sleep needs me (or, really, I need it) more than anything else right now.  So off I go.


Just so happy to be home.