And so

Thank you to everyone who once again guest posted. Thank you for all the kind and supportive emails that I never returned. Thank you for showing up and reading even though you knew every time you did, it would lower your general happiness level a full notch (sometimes two). (I have taken back the reigns of my internet diary, so if the posts of the last few weeks have provided any exceptions to the depressive, psychotic, bitter, wrathful standards I have built and upheld for over a year, you can exhale. If you're into that my brand of _____________, here's your home plate. Virtually speaking, anyway).

Geographically speaking, we are at the airport waiting for a flight that takes off in three hours. You might remember that I was supposed to stay here until Wednesday and you might guess that it's odd for three people to sit around in an airport for three hours if they don't have to.

(Work on it for a minute. Have a inference or two and meet me a sentence later).

It has been almost twenty-four hours, actually, since we left. We spent the night at a hotel an hour away.

(Keep inferring. It was so much worse than you can possibly imagine. Imagine the epic worst way and then triple it or even quadruple it).

Having an internet diary that is run by your evil twin has a lot of drawbacks, but it has one indispensable advantage: because you don't know my name or theirs, I can describe everything that happened in the last 48 hours secure in the knowledge that I am slandering no one (because every word I say will be true) and also secure in the knowledge that I am exposing no one's identity. I'll be exposing you all to a complete guarantee that you'll be much less happy than you were before you started reading, but I leave it to your good judgment to decide whether to come back and find out why my dad's children are all refugees in airports for the better part of a weekend.

Love,
Nina