After a day of long waits, flight delays, traipsing from LaGuardia to National in DC (changing planes and being transferred between gates by a bus stopped to allow a plane to refuel) to Chicago O’hare (changing terminals and planes while trying to grab a meal) to Little Rock, I’m tired. We got to Little Rock about 10:20 last night, then got a shuttle to the airport hotel. I wasn’t willing to drive home last night, after a grueling day; not with my undependable night-vision. Of course, I decided that even before we left, so we parked here at the hotel before we left for New York.
I got up early, as usual, but wrote just a bit before going back to bed. Then, up at just after seven o’clock. I slipped on yesterday’s clothes and went downstairs for breakfast, courtesy of the hotel, while my wife continued to sleep. She sleeps still. And I am writing about end-of-vacation let-down. I write about being tired and worn and unsuited for anything but more sleep.
Once my wife awakes and has breakfast, or not, we’ll see if the car we left here a lifetime ago is still in the parking lot and still operable.
I have things to say, but I am too tired for words to form in my brain, much less drip through my fingers to the keyboard and onto the screen. I am worn out, for some reason. I’ll rest and see what the world is like, back in the south.