I am sitting in the Harrisburg airport with Barb, after having driven over last night and staying with her brother Bobby, who was at work, and his girlfriend Delva. Bobby might have the BEST HOUSE EVER. All huge and clean and gleaming and wooden, with antlers everywhere. He has a big comfy couch with arms in the midst of it that PULL DOWN and have little cupholders in them. In front of this couch is a large coffee table that you can somehow raise up and pull into you, so that you do not have the inconvenience of sitting forward or bending down to get something from the table. He has a big screen TV upon which the best show ever Project Runway was playing. The moment we walked in Delva took out 50000 piles of food from the refrigerator and told us how bad she felt that she didn't have more. She took out bins of meatballs and chicken and burgers and melon. She put out plates of cheese and crackers. She opened a big bottle of wine. She sat us at the couch. A very-much-a-player pug dog Josh inserted himself between Barb and me on the couch and whilst trying to partake of her meatball sandwhich smoothly stuck out his paw and placed it on my knee. We slept in a huge king bed that was at least a mile off the ground. Next to the bed was a tiny fridge filled with beer and soda. Delva gave me one of those long pillows that stretch the length of your body and I almost died of happiness. I REALLY LIKE PILLOWS.

We are now waiting for a delayed flight to Philly, and there will get a flight to Seattle... but I secretly suspect we should have stayed in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Forever.

The end.