Again, a quiet house...

Yesterday was another marathon activity whirl, culminating with the departure of all our house guests, relatives and friends.

Alex made it to his three torturous flight connections to Ft. Lauderdale, and is presumably on his way to the submarine right now, via Navy bus. Juli got through security without valid photo I.D. (having lost her passport somewhere, and possessing only an expired Washington State identification card), and is hopefully back in Seattle this morning. Bud started toward Illinois, (we split up at 25E in Bean Station--we headed south and he went northward), and is probably home by now. Ray and Elaine came by for pizza and much wine and beer on the deck last night, then departed for their hotel, leaving for Nashville and then Sacramento this morning.

Between dropping off Alex at 9:30 am and Juli's flight at 2:45, the three of us plus dog toured John Sevier's summer home, had brunch at Sonic, stopped at Food City to get Juli some fruit, tried out mattresses at The Bed Store, got lost, and then toured the Ramsey Plantation. (For this last one, I took an ibu 800, parked in the shade and knitted, while keeping Echo company in the back of the car).

After dropping Juli off and making sure she got through the security fooferah, Bill and I had our obligatory tired-and-tension argument on the way home from the airport, and stopped at the Smoky Mountain Knife Works and the tool store. Of course we did. Seems we hadn't filled the day up with enough activity already?

Bill and I are off to Dr. Huddleston in Kingsport this morning to talk about (what else?) my breasts again. The scar tissue has returned since the encapsulotomy. Plus, everyone wants to discuss the addition of nipples, and I still don't know what I think about that. On one level, I suppose this is supposed to be the next step, designed to make me feel better, more normal. From a practical view, it seems completely ridiculous to me. I am not normal, nothing is ever going to make this better, and who are we kidding with the fake boobies and nips? I am not amused.

Grrrr....

The house this morning is abnormally quiet after two weeks of non-stop people. And really dirty. It looks like Madison Square Garden the day after the conventioneers went home. Makes me wish I could take to my bed with a good case of Victorian Vapors and get away with it.

But instead, life goes on, without the benefit of a personal janitorial staff.