OLD HOMES AND TIME ZONES

Now would be a good time to mention that I used to live in England, or "used to live in England" as certain people in my life would say. So the first few days of this week I pranced around our old village and by "pranced around" I mean "fell asleep every time I stood still for more than a minute" because my god this jetlag thing is nothing to joke about.

We stayed at Hall Farm in Great Chishill, the same B&B my family and I stayed in during our last few nights in the country. It's been almost ten years and the owners still remembered us.

Speaking of remembering, we bumped into quite a few old friends while we were exploring. The general consensus is that I look exactly the same as I did when I was eleven, which is naht comforting.

We bumped into a lot of old memories as well:

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(2)

(3)

(4)

1) Our old house, with just as many things different as there are the same.
2) My sister and I got into a fight here because she told me I was short. Pot, meet Kettle, asshole.
3) Our little lady chocolate lab used to touch noses through this fence with a big manly chocolate lab, just like Romeo and Juliet.
4) Lucky enough to be in Saffron Walden for their Saturday morning markets. Spot the puppy.

I'm tired and snoogled up in my own little bed and am excited for what might be my first decent and well-adjusted night of sleep, so I will leave you with this, a resident of the animal shelter we visited while walking in our village: