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I hate that last day in a foreign country, when all you do is sitting around waiting. Waiting for the airport shuttle, waiting for the plane, then sitting in the stupid plane for hours on end. Departure days are really endlessly depressing; in fact, I nearly started to bawl in the waiting lounge at the airport. (Okay, so maybe I was a tat tired, too.) (But it is sad: I won’t see all my writing friends and the lovely people at Dorchester for at least a year, if not two, because I’m not so sure I’ll attend next year’s RWA National. San Francisco? Talk about a horror flight!)

After a nine-hour-something flight I’m finally back home, have petted all the furry babies, will shortly take a shower and then start to unpack.

And count books. *g*

Pictures will follow soon.