home is the sailor, home from the seas

We're back, and we're cranky. I have a head cold. The house is filled with dirty laundry, soiled sleeping bags which need to be taken to the dry cleaners, stacks of unread Wall St. Journals, and other charming assemblages. All of this needs to be cleaned up by tomorrow afternoon, when guests will arrive at cocktail hour expecting tapas (oh, and I need to make the tapas, too).

On the other hand, my beautiful poppies bloomed while I was gone, and all the pets survived, thanks to our conscientious housesitter.