let's get this party started.

let me start by saying i was absolutely right, that the whole notion of sleeping in a room that is both silent as the tomb and dark as agent cooper's coffee is both disorienting and self-indulgent. after retiring at the shy hour of eleven last night, i slept through till about 12:30 out here, wrapped in feather bed and darkness.
of course, that could have something to do with the fact that i'd been awake for about two days prior to my lovely sleep.
yes, ladies and gentlemen, i have arrived on british soil. the journey was an adventure, though hardly one worthy of an adventure novel. i left my house in a made frantic dash, having frittered the day away with d., doing not much of anything at all. i packed in about five minutes and hurled myself out the door just as the taxi arrived; i am still wondering if i left the coffee pot on, or if my house is an inferno as i type.
arriving at the airport, i was met by the typical jfk scene--a line for check in that stretched somewhere to the middle of the departures lounge. utter chaos. but, i survived without mangling anyone (an actual danger, considering i hate both flying and crowds; they tend to make me testy), and made my way to the departures lounge, somewhere in the next terminal.
once i'd arrived and armed myself with the requisite trashy magazine, i was called to the desk, whereupon i was informed that i had been miraculously bumped up to business class.
this, naturally, led me to believe that i was going to die a horrible fiery death in return. i even had to call the biscuit to get him to convince me otherwise. you see, i had had a Very Good Few Days. so good, in fact, that i was certain that retribution would have to be had (i'm not very good at accepting large swathes of goodness; it's a balance thing)--i was on my way to england to see many people i love and do many fun things; i'd had a lovely little soiree the previous night; my occasional ability to avoid doing something stupid or be a complete jackass has kept me in good company; work can kiss my ass for ten days; and now, i'm suddenly confronted with the fact that i was going to have edible food and leg room on a transatlantic flight. terrifying.
but, i arrived in tact and on time, simply Blew through immigration and customs, and now i'm here, in our family's tiny tudor cottage, engaging in conversations about who is going to be redoing the thatching and the fact that the front door now looks like something out of a medieval torture chamber and smashing my head on the rafters. planning the inevitable christmas day trivial pursuit tournament (british edition circa the 1970's; hardly fair) and tomorrow's pool-to-the-death extravaganza.
see? my apartment simply HAS to be burning. 
and now, if you'll excuse me, i have some horlick's to drink and a fireplace to drape myself in front of.
bwa ha ha haaaa!