On memories and being home again.

It's funny what our brains do. As we were getting ready to drive home on Friday morning and I was thinking about getting back home, for a second, the home that I picture was not the one we lived in now, but our apartment in Boston. Driving up to the outside of the building and parallel parking or if we were lucky there would be a spot. Unloading all of our crap and making several trips to get it all up from the car into our 2nd floor apartment. Checking the mail box which was on the exterior of the building. Wondering how many hair balls we would find on the carpet just inside the door. Wondering how the kitties survived being left alone for a few days.

In fact, as we were driving home this time, I found myself all of a sudden thinking about the kitties and getting a little excited about seeing them. This little ritual clearly had worn a rut in my brain, in my memories. We don't have our kitties anymore since they both died last fall, but I still think of them at odd times.

Anyway, we were all soooo glad to be home on Friday. Everybody was super mellow. Daniel played quietly and contentedly on his own for a long period of time. Andrew chilled out in his exersaucer, catching up on all the whacking of his toys that he had missed in the last week. J spread himself out on the couch, TV remote in hand. Me, I was in my usual spot, laptop on my lap. There was a big sigh about the household for a little while that evening.