by MustBTVDay eighteen of furlough. The day began before the sun, departure from New Orleans, caffeine in hand, airport chaos in full swing. TSA lines, half-awake travelers, and that unmistakable airport coffee smell — burnt hope and anxiety. We were wheels up early and back home by lunchtime, where civilization (and cleaner air) greeted us like an old friend.
The first order of business: a three-hour nap. My head had been pounding since takeoff, and the moment my body hit home turf, it staged a full shutdown. When I finally woke up, I felt halfway human again, groggy, but deeply grateful to no longer be surrounded by jazz, humidity, and plumbing issues.
Remington’s reaction to our return was pure joy, part reunion, part emotional breakdown. Tail wagging, paws flying, a full-scale homecoming parade in the living room. She made sure we knew she’d been counting the hours.
Mittens arrived shortly after for what I can only assume was a wellness inspection. He stared at us silently, blinked once, and walked away, the feline equivalent of, “Good. You’re alive.” I can’t tell if he’s happy or mildly inconvenienced that we disrupted his temporary rule.
Tabby remains unaccounted for, likely still sulking over being left out of the trip. Recon teams (Remington) have been deployed, but search operations have yielded no sightings yet.
Tomorrow marks the return to normal furlough operations, coffee at dawn, mild chaos by midmorning, and existential reflection before lunch. For now, it’s just good to be home.
Morale check: relieved. Headache fading, pets adjusting, house intact. The Living Room Republic has resumed command, Operation Return to Routine is underway.
