I'm ba-a-a-ack.

I was off to Florida for a week. Forgot to take my Blogger password with me (sigh). But now, I've returned.

850 miles on the Interstate is a long, dull drive. Well, except for when other drivers make it exciting, for microseconds at a time. (Nothing came of those incidents, thankfully.) A little too long to make all in one stretch, so it turns into two days of tedium. Thank heavens for books-on-CD: three of them (about 25 discs worth) covered the trip almost exactly. I wish the Hercule Poirot story had been a bit more interesting, though, and about half as long.

The cat is a fairly good traveler, all things considered. Other than the every-second-and-a-half inquiries of "Are we almost there?" for the first 100 miles, she slept most of the way, often in my lap. And she never made a break for the door when I got opened it. Once we got to my parents' place, she recognized where we were and remembered where her "safe places" were, and it took only about two days to re-establish the truce with the resident cats.

On the trip back, I had to marvel at how the highway engineers were able to add an additional 200 miles of Interstate highway to my route in South Carolina in the space of less than a week, and with no signs of construction or obvious detours.