5 hours in the car alone should be my official limit. It should say so on my driver's licence. During the last 45 minutes of the ride home, I was making up ridiculous imaginary conversations with ridiculous imaginary people with ridiculous sounding accents and playing all the parts myself. If anyone had heard me, I would probably be in a psych ward this very moment. But as it stands, my goofaciousness was not witnessed by any official representatives of the loony bin squad, so I am safe for the nonce.

It's nice to go to visit, and it's nice to get home. The cat seems to be glad to see me. He's used to having company all day long, poor guy. He let me cuddle him and I didn't get so much as a pretend bite this time. I call that progress!