Old corgi
A Corgi (not mine)

After a summer of camp, insanity and never being clean for more than five minutes, I am home. I am: about to collapse, happy to be back, desirous of some serious alone time, sad.

First thing I did upon returning: Lay on the floor and let myself be mobbed by my two wonderful little dogs. One’s a Corgi. The others the size of a corgi. It was wonderful.

So now I’m resting up. Replenishing the gallons of water I’m probably missing, the thousands of calories and the hours of sleep. Oh, and repairing my emotional self. About 700 or more small children in one summer is a lot to handle. Not that I had to handle all of them, but they were there. At camp. Ready for me to be on call. To their safety.

Long story short, it’s good to be home with my mom, my dad and my brother. I’m not ready for France yet, not after the summer I just had, but I will be. Have to be. 21 days and I’m out. 21 days to get my fill of every friend in the U.S. that I have. Possible? Nope. But don’t have a choice there. I’ll live. I’ll grow. And maybe I’ll learn some things.

HOWEVER, for the time being, I’m chillin’. And chillin’ is good.


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