No-stress Christmas Day Seven: Delayed

As flight delays go, it was really nothing to complain about. Instead of being the death of slow cuts I'm used to, it was nicely straightforward: shortly before 2 p.m., I got a message that my 5:35 flight would be departing at 7:50 that evening. At 5 p.m., they were still saying it would depart at 7:50. So even though I was only guaranteed a seat if I was physically in the terminal at the time of scheduled departure, I hung around Sis' house until about 6 p.m. and had no more time to kill at the airport than normal.

I almost wished for a little more after bantering with the cheery white-haired man in the Steelers cap at the Schlafly's/Past House bar. If only I'd been feeling up to taking a drink off the sweet camp bartender. The worst part of the whole experience was the completely unnecessary panic I put myself through by misreading the Departures board right before entring security. But I was through so quickly it only lasted about fifteen minutes before I reached the gate and discover my mistake. Once again, I even had reason to compliment the agent who gave me my pat-down (taking me immediately, rather than making me stand around awkwardly like Midway seems to make a habit of).

I was able to pack leisurely, see a bit more of the boys before going, and even fit in a couple more games of Ultimate One-Night Werewolf and visit with a couple of BIL's old friends. The evening before, after getting waxed playing Carcassonne, I reminded him of the courtesy he and his wife normally pay of allowing me to win the last game we play together. "Well, this might not be the last," he said. And, sure enough, I won both games today (and would've lost the next one, since I was a werewolf both times and would've been killed outright the next time just on general principle).

All in all, better than expected given the crap-ass start to the day. At first, I thought we'd lucked out of more construction noises, but they simply started an hour later. I was so tired, though, I was able to go back to sleep mid-morning in spite of them, which should've been my first clue something was not quite right. By the time Dad arrived to take me to lunch, I knew skipping my zinc yesterday had been a mistake and my cold was not amused at being held at bay so long. Perversely, he decided to take me to a sports bar known for its meat-loaded deli sandwiches; I had potato pancakes and a salad, did my best not to lose my voiced shouting over the din, and counted the moments until we were back in the car.

I probably would've felt just as miserable at the zoo with the young'uns, but at least it would've gotten me out into the sunlight and unnaturally warm air. (The high today was over 10°C.) Dad was as low-energy as me, but he's in at least his third month of it. At least he did have a chance to show me the waterscape he's working on, but it was a little depressing to see how modest its size was given how long he's been working on it. It's sad to see an man as active as him losing his vigour. (He thinks he'll bounce back to where he was as soon as the infection's gone and his course of antibiotics is finished; I'm not so sure.)

The crowning luxury of the day was being met at the airport by bunj and e. and ferried back home. monshu was coincidentally waking up right as we arrived, but twenty minutes or less of chat drained him and sent him back downstairs to sleep some more. Something about his medication is not quite right if it's wiping him out like this. His appetite is gone again and I think a call to his primary is in order--except he's still in Pakistan and it will have to be the covering doctor. Still, much easier to do that from here rather than 300 miles away.