Slowly, but slowly, I'm getting back into a routine. I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but it's happening nonetheless. Today I got up at the time I'm supposed to get up and did the things I'm supposed to do on ... well, on Monday actually. Just because it's "routine" doesn't mean it's "back to normal" or "on schedule."

The Boss was on the road all day yesterday, so that helped. He got back to his desk at approximately 5:47 pm yesterday afternoon. I know because of the time signature on the first fax I got from him. They kept pouring in until I yanked the cord out of the wall.

Okay, I didn't yank the cord out of the wall at all. But what I did had a similar effect. Since the fax and modem share a phone line, I just went online and blocked out all faxes. It really didn't matter, because I had no intention of doing anything about the faxes he did send until this morning anyway. And by that time there were half a dozen more.

But I'm just back from vacation, right? I'm in a good mood. Everything is beautiful (in its own way). Nothing can bring me down because I'm still borderline euphoric from ditching this joint (with pay) for a week. I might be looking out my window and seeing the same dreary old concrete and gravel driveway that was there before I went anywhere, but in my mind's eye, I can see everything from the fabulous view of the Rockies outside our rental house in Estes Park (which you, too, can see in the June 12 entry, now up) to this rest stop in Utah:

which, while not as breathtaking, is in its own way just as awesome. Not to mention about 700 miles from here.

Oh, but I'm not about to complain about being back. Those memories will carry me a long way. They'll probably last at least until I can take some time to stay on the houseboat for a few days next month. I was hoping to get up to Shasta Lake for at least a week, but the way things are looking, a couple of long weekends might be more realistic. Still, that's better than languishing in bondage (oooh, bondage) all summer.