This is supposed to be the part where I talk about Coachella and how much fun I had with Yvonne and, you know, my actual real live non styrofoam friends and siblings and even a fellow blogger in California. Because the short answer is: OHMYGODSOMUCHFUCKINGFUNYOUDON’TEVENKNOW. (I mean, of course you don’t know. Because I haven’t told you.)

But I mostly just want to spend the rest of this week sleeping off everything that has happened. Because for real for real, I am exhausted.

When I make the drive between California and home I always feel like I am discovering new levels of exhaustion. It’s a 25–26 hour drive if you average about 10mph over the speed limit and don’t stop to sleep. Also before I left I was told not to get a ticket and sure enough I got my first speeding ticket in several years. Which isn’t to say that I haven’t been pulled over a few times in the last few years, but I blame the fact that the ticket was actually issued on my bad omen giving friend, rather than my inability to drive within the confines of posted speed limits.

As I was leaving Oklahoma I started swerving out of my lane, not because I was falling asleep (that particular time), but because I was distracted. Why was I distracted? The color of my hands. They didn’t look like my hands.

Now, I do contend that I acquired a really weird ass tan at Zuma right before I left and the line where my palm color meets the back-of-my-hand color is kind of strange. However, no person who is distracted by the color of their own hands / overwhelmed by the feeling that their hands do not appear to belong to them is in any shape to be driving…by whatever means you have come by this feeling.

So I did snag a 45 minute period of eyes-closed-ness, that I can’t really even call a nap because that word is reserved for something very different and way more awesome than closing my eyes in my car at an interstate rest area. That was more of a brief self-induced coma. With enough remaining bodily awareness to know that I really didn’t want to be where I was. And waking up would be the only way to change that.

This feeling that there is only one place in the world I want to be (my bed) makes me appreciate home so much more than I otherwise do. I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to live in this place and the times where circumstances force me here (see also: now) make appreciating it so much harder. Flying back from New York I consoled myself with the reminder that I’d be leaving for California in a couple days. But after being in the car for that long, the road sign welcoming me to Missouri is like a sign from the heavens telling me that I’ve won the lottery and all I have to do to collect is stay awake for another 3.5 hours and not get myself or anyone else killed. Or, you know, at least try not to get anyone else killed. I guess that part isn’t really a requirement.

And now that I have to get back to work and maybe being some vague approximation of a real person, all I can think is that I need some post vacation nap time. Also, I haven’t really been planning my week around sub job offers. Instead I have been deciding how to work out the time I need to spend sitting outside in the sun correcting my stupid tan and reading Baby Sitter’s Club books for Childhood Trauma which you should all check out because it’s going to be amazing.

Which is really the only thing I wanted to say right now. Do you see what I did there? DO YOU SEE?

You should also see this excellent video that the amazing Lor put together for us:

(obviously Coachella, Yvonne, adventures, and blogger-bar-meetup with TJ will be addressed eventually. But the Snark Squad will be way more fun for you than all of that anyway. I promise.)