I'm back at San Francisco International awaiting yet another in-the-sky airplane flight, this one to London, England for a six-day werk trip.
The photo above, which I took one minute ago for my friend Will, shows me drinking red wine. I like the photo because my hairline looks more robust than it actually is and the glare from the sun is mercifully covering the zit that my forehead has been aggressively cultivating since Friday night.
Three thoughts I am thinking are as follows:
- I forgot to ask my Lyft driver to stop at a mailbox on the way to the airport which means that the six letters I worked v. hard to complete this weekend will travel with me across an ocean and back before making their way to various mailboxes within the contiguous United States
- the Love, Simon soundtrack is perhaps my favorite non-musical movie soundtrack since Garden State (yeah, I said it)
- I got a physical earlier this week and in addition to nonchalantly referring to me as a redhead my doctor gave me a prescription for Xanax to make flying easier but I’m too scared to take it because Bevan once did and full-body-vommed all over an airplane bathroom