Sweet Home Chicago

I'm finally home, after a ridiculously long trip. (Three flights, one box of cough drops, two books and one sleeping pill.) Sharon picked me up at the airport and dropped me at my parents' condo in the 'burbs. I've completely lost my voice, am waking up at 3am, and may possibly kill my father before my mother comes back from her 50th college reunion on Sunday, but all in all, it's good to be home.
Pretty much all I have done, besides dinner with my oldest, bestest friends, is read back issues of the New Yorker and drink tea. Not a bad way to start vacation, particularly when it's rainy and cold outside. I've tried to read the Chicago paper, but it's even worse than it was two years ago, and they have changed the shape, so that it is weirdly skinny and awkward feeling.
That's one of the weird things about living abroad. Things are mostly the same, only they are different. And I've only been out of the country for two years. I can't imagine what it must be like for friends who have been everseas for years. Although, I guess if they have been overseas their whole adult lifes, they don't have the same connection to their hometowns as I have with Chicago.
Anyway, I am home, and looking forward to things that I know haven't changed, like a Cubs game, and breakfast at M. Henry, and going on walks with Jordyn, and all of the things I have been missing in Bangladesh.