We arrived home by train this afternoon. Thanksgiving was simple and uninteresting. We mostly spent the four days in Portland drinking new beers and watching physics professors explain theories that are too big for my mind. It makes me want to read more string theory and anything about black holes. We exist as everything exists.
I am happy to be home. Everything is in place. The animals spread their soft hairs accross the hard wood floors each day they went unswept, we came in the door to a scene something snow like. I could probably reconstruct several animals with the amount of hair I gathered into the garbage.
We made an especially garlic dinner tonight and are slouching into to Sherlock Holmes, letting him solve everything.
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