As I'm typing, it's Thursday night, but I won't be able to send this until tomorrow when I am back in my own apartment in NYC as the phone line that's in this room, my former bedroom, was shut off today. It's strange to be back, although the room no longer feels even remotely mine--despite still retaining the wallpaper, carpet, and blinds as when I grew up here.
The flight was dull and uneventful, which is about the best one can hope for these days in a flight. We got off to a late start, but somehow landed half an hour ahead of our scheduled arrival time. I also managed to breeze through immigration, although my luggage took forever to show up. But customs was likewise not an onerous line, for a change. Then ensued a bit of a mix up since Iberia has, up until February 1 2005, always arrived at Terminal 8, which is where my Dad thought he was supposed to pick me up, but from now on Iberia arrives (and departs from) Terminal 7. And I wasn't having any luck getting through to his cell phone from the pay phones, so wound up having to call my mother and have her relay messages and so on.
But we did find one another at last, and even found our way out of the labyrinth of side streets immediately surrounding terminal 7 (after we had finally learned our way in and out of the Terminal 8 zone!) and made it home, and picked up my mother to head out for a yummy thai meal (po pia sod and a veggie pad see yew for me).
It is nearly midnight now, and am still wired with this second or fifth wind. Am terrified that when I do collapse into sleep it will be for a long while.
Although, as it turns out, I'm not sleeping in my old bedroom on my own. No, I'm sharing my former abode with three parrots--a terrified moluccan cockatoo (reclaimed from the owner who'd taken it as a baby) and a pair of African greys, one of which has a broken leg.
So I imagine that at the crack of dawn, I'll be getting up despite my druthers thanks to avian noises. But we'll see. For now, to blessed sleep.