I wimped out

So much for my tattoo-touting bravado.  My plane to the south was delayed (I may or may not have imbibed in the airport) and I arrived just in time for dinner with the fam.  I made no attempt to hide the tat and was actually gearing up for the big reveal when a lady walked by, her legs covered in ink.  Mom and Gama both shook their heads and Gama proceeded to tsk-tsk about how she doesn't understand how anyone - male or female - old or young, would want to do that to themselves.

Bye Bye Birdie.

I skulked around for the entire four days with my left hand clutched to my side like some kind of stroke victim.

Sonic helped somewhat.

It was a good visit overall, but I just don't think I'm cut out for the humidity anymore.  It's as if, when I moved away several years ago, my body was like, Ok, we're done.  And now I'm utterly unable to adjust to the hot, sticky, sticky, smothering, unbearable weather.  As you can see from the pic, I'm constantly covered in a sheen of sweat and gunk.

Meanwhile my bro is all NASA-fied in California.  The trip home just wasn't the same without him, and to make matters worse, I had to stay in his room.  Let this sink in, people:  I had to sleep in my little brother's room.  In his bed.  GRODY.

I sent him numerous texts lamenting this and about the 3rd time he responded with pictures from San Francisco, I realized exactly how unfair life is.  We indeed live in a fallen world.

Let's keep this last picture between us.  I have a training appointment tonight.  Lord, help me.