british invasion

Sunday, November 23, 2014

I'm in England and it's after 2 a.m. here and I just popped an Ambien, so if this post gets a little nutty, it's not my fault.

However, it may be my fault that I'm in England instead of Paris. Let's just say there was a small issue surrounding my passport's expiration date. (Haven't we already established how much I suck at dates? Oh wait. That sounds weird. But possibly also accurate. You don't win fans with stories about your cats' worms. Oh wait. That also sounds weird. Dear god.)

Anyway, so I am in England because I figured I have the days off and the suitcase and the miles. And the cat sitter is at home, earning money to put her future children through college.

So I asked the airline: "Where can you send me?" And this is where I ended up.

I haven't been here since 2005. Which also happens to be when my passport photo was taken. I told the customs officer it was my "fat picture." She laughed and called me "darling."

I like that I made the customs officer laugh. They are people too, you know.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! That is all.

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