Of the Paris sort.

Don’t get me wrong … I am happy to be home … but there is the inevitable hangover … way worse, by the way, than an actual alcohol one.

Because this lasts a heck of a lot longer than one day of feeling Mack-Truck-Hellish.

I feel caught between two worlds, two me’s, both that are being played out simultaneously. It’s just that one got left à Paris.

Oh, Paris … how I miss thee.

Are you freaked out for me that I could write a love poem to Paris? Because I totally could. But I don’t think I want to put myself through further heart break.

Seriously, People, it’s like a love affair, an infatuation, an all consuming emotion of devotion … please, don’t be concerned for my mental sanity. I promise I’m together … as much as one can be having just spent a glorious month abroad.

And now comes the fun part … the unpacking, the putting of my life back to order … only to pack up two days from now again.

Yes, Brother, The BF and I are hitting up DL. It’s all about some DL {Douglas Lake} 2012 up in here! More on that to come.

In the meantime, it’s back to basics … the little basics of daily life that I haven’t thought about for the past 30 days.

Oh, and coming home to mes animaux? The wonderful, warm greeting I thought I’d get from them, especially B … nada. It took B about 25 minutes to even come out of her cage and she just looked at me like, “what, don’t you have anything better?”. The cats took one look at me and all started meowing for food. I guess that’s all they think I’m good for — feedings.

No matter, I was still thrilled to see them and this morning B and I re-bonded over a nice walk … though not nearly long enough for either one of us.

Paris or no Paris … I gotta say … there’s no place like home.