As the title suggests, I’m finally back.

No, not like “sexy” back.

More like “frumpy” back.

…especially “frumpy” considering that I’m sitting here at my desk all dolled-up in an old-lady nightgown with my hair poking about my head like a porcupine on crack. (Really, I’d put some clothes on if I had any… My mother is a smoker, and while she can be convinced to satiate her little nasty habit out on the patio while we’re visiting, all of our luggage smells like a biker bar. All of our luggage- that includes my jeans. Because I only have two pair that I actually enjoy wearing. Why do I only like wearing two pair of jeans, you ask? Hell, I don’t know. But I do, dammit, and they both smell like a biker bar and are in the wash along with three other bags full… Which is why I’m sitting here in an old-lady nightgown. Keep up, would ‘ya? Sheesh.)

We actually considered staying out the rest of the week… Somehow we all managed to pick up some nasty head colds. I was feeling like shite warmed over the easy-bake oven way, and I’m pretty sure that the babes were too.

But the thought of my own bed and a husband that would rub the two-week long crinks out of my back (my mother’s guestbed is the stuff of dungeons, let me tell you), had me sudafed-ing the hell up (like “man”-ing up, with less sweating) and hitting the road.

Peter insists that GPS Betty took me the long way home…

I insist that an “all interstate” trip beats getting lost in places like Earle, Arkansas any day.

Plus, GPS Betty is hawt.

So, we’re finally home.

And so are the nasty colds.

OH! And a new gigantic plasma television.

Because my husband wanted to “surprise” me. Something about bigger always being better…

I’ll never understand why that man doesn’t understand that if it’s too damn big to fit [in the entertainment center], then it’s no damn good [for my decor].

I am not happy.

OH! And he lost my dog.

HE LOST MY DOG.

Thank God I didn’t leave him with one of the kids, eh?

So today’s agenda is quite hectic:

• Plow through two weeks’ worth of email.
• Print up notices about missing dog.
• Call the newspaper to run ad about missing dog.
• Wash five suitcases full of clothes.
• Dust (why does he not consider dusting part of cleaning?)
• Clean out the fridge (because he obviously doesn’t consider that part of cleaning either… And the oranges that I bought a couple of weeks ago have begun discussing the implications of Revelations.)
• Work on three-months of designs. Ugh.
• Say good-bye to my beloved Crackberry and hello to my new Palm Centro. (Not sure how that’s gonna play out…But it’s got a stylus, and I love me some stylus. Makes me feel all professional and shit.)
• Enjoy my last day of non-dieting. (Frozen pizza and chocolate ice cream, here I come.)

Man, I need a vacation.

A real one this time.