Well thank fuck for that. I got on a plane in Detroit, Michigan on Saturday and Pirate met me at the airport in Bristol on Sunday morning. He was 45 minutes late, mind you, so there was none of that walking out of baggage collection and into his waiting arms. Instead there was a lot of sitting around and looking at my watch, but he got there in the end and that's what matters.
The flights over weren't too bad, either. I managed to score exit-row seats on both planes. AND wound up sitting next to the male lead of Riverdance, who are beginning a new UK tour. He offered to get me comps to the show when they're in Plymouth. So all in all not a bad trip.
God it's good to be home. I missed my Pirate. I missed his voice and his laugh, his smell, the smell of the house, the feel of the sheets, my own kitchen with all my stuff exactly where it should be, Pirate's ginaggerous shlong, the birds in the garden, the fishies in the tank (Counselor Paul, our algae-eater, has gotten HUGE, as has Garlic, the snail), my cacti collection and african violets, and all the little things that make the house our home (mostly each other).
Ahhhh. Life is good.