traumatic returns

first 10 things that pop to my mind.
1. latent realization that it's NOT normal to walk around 24/7 in a bikini. alas, that is what i have been doing for 3 weeks and somehow clothes seemed terribly cumbersome and how can i put it, redundant? BA flight attendant ever-so-nicely informed me my attire might not be appropriate. it seems, according to unsourced witness accounts, that i had a tit hanging out.
2. maude. even without mushrooms she was satanic on my homecoming. she has grown. and did her ever-so-touching on-the-spot pee pee on seeing me. the fact that she does that with everyone or everything with/without a pulse is a point lost on yours robinson cruisette. sadly, no disrespectful canine humping to report, as yet.
3. stacks of bills, mail, chores. enough to drive kafka potty and me sane.
4. compelled, sexually almost, to ostia within minutes of landing, such was the lust for the sea, the salt, the doomed search for the green wave to surf. clearly, disappointment ensued in the form of some saggy arsed nudists, toxic waste and dead calm. michael and a bottle of white were a quick and satisfying fix
5. have become even more resistent to the concept of personal hygiene after a month almost of sea water and nothing else. must i shower. the thought is distateful. will sleep on it. tomorrow i have to get up VERY early. maybe i can shower wednesday.
6. god is a surfer. i believe so. and he's a girl. a girl surfer.
7. if you cannot surf then you must skate board. that is surf. on asphalt.
8. unresolved crushes. things were left unsaid before i went. stuff was said and taken back while i was gone. on my return i decided to ``take the fifth'' and plea temporary insanity or permanent loss of mental faculties and fine tune the art of sentimental dodgeball. crushes are for teenagers. love is for your 20s. i am 30. the decade for botox.
10. i got another tattoo. just kidding.
lesson learnt. always heed oats. she says it best. hers are words of wisdom: ``eschew the cashew''