We were supposed to leave the airport in Nebraska at 5:40pm (6:40pm ET) yesterday and then catch a connection in Atlanta to reach home in Melbourne. But it was stormy in Atlanta, and the thunder must of scared the po' wittle pilots, so we didn't get an f'n plane until 9:20 (10:20 ET). We don't get to Atlanta until 12:30am and are desperately trying to find a connection to anywhere nearby to Melbourne, be it Orlando or even Jacksonville. No luck. Next flight is 8:15am.

"Oh, and since it's weather that caused the delay, you don't get any compensation."

The Atlanta D terminal where my flight is coming eight hours later is lit like brighter than the sun, has midnight shift workers everywhere using things that sound like indoor lawnmowers, and has CNN blaring on multiple T.V.'s (stupid liberal media not letting me sleep). Dr. J and I find the quitest nook in the terminal. The seats all have arm rest, so lying on top of them won't work. But lying under them at least shields one from the lights, and my briefcase makes a poor imitation of a pillow.

As soon as I finally get to sleep, Dr. J kicks me awake saying I'm snoring. Crazy bastard! I never heard me snore! Let me sleep!

I then wake myself up mid-snore. Goddamn, I do snore! Or at least the condition of lying on concrete huddled under a bench of seats like some hobo (luckily Glenn Reynolds wasn't around to murder me) makes me snore.

Anyway, I'm home now, and, after my spam filter had its way, I still have 520 e-mails to sort through. That will happen later, as I go sleep now.

No posts for you!

Grrr, I was supposed to arrive home to a nice three-day weekend, but the best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, gang aft agley.

Wait! What the f**k does that mean? I really need some sleep...

And wasn't there some big announcement? Oh, that's for later...

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