Coming back from the Twin Cities ...

I had the tiredness. The dry eyes. The mismatched, wrinkled clothes. The morning pillow lines on my face. The not-washed hair-do kicking. The uncomfortable feeling of eating a greasy hash brown on an empty stomach. The backache from sharing a twin sleeper sofa with an borderline-insomniac husband.

We had the disoriented feeling of being late for something, then the panicky feeling of noticing we'd set the alarm clock for the wrong time -- not in our favor. We had the scramble to the highway and the quiet, long ride back to Oshkosh at 7 a.m.

All I needed was a hangover and it'd be sophomore year of college all over again.

Yeah. Minneapolis was fun. But I don't want to come back from it ever again. So I don't know if that means I'm moving there, or if I won't be going there for a while.

Well. I can't afford to live there. Ikea. The Mall. Restaurants.

Hello, materialism. Goodbye, growing up 20 minutes from a mall that sports a JC Penney and a parking lot.