En tránsito

I've never quite understood the concept of creamer. Why isn't it called powdered milk?

This was about all my brain had the capacity to consider after a overnight flight comprised of head bobbing and neck bending.

Madrid Airport feels like something out of a futuristic sci-fi movie, and equally as baffling to the brain. There is such a thing as an overly complicated gate numbering system that leads to mass confusion. I must have been at the budget terminal when I came here with the family in 2009, as I don't recall such a sci-fi labyrinth.

I would also maintain that it's a waste of everyone's oxygen to put out announcements that are reminding passengers to arrive at their boarding gate on time, yet aren't communicating gate numbers or changes. These only serve to heighten blood pressure for those locked in the never-ending maze.

At least the sun was shining in Cambridge as I transitioned back to reality. The afternoon was spent being puzzled as to why I've received mail addressed to a Mr Shu Sam Chen, and communicating to Donna at an interior design company about the snagging issues with my flooring. When checking what maintenance issues were cropping up, the property management company had previously advised that my panels were separating because of pressure on the floorboards, and it was because 'things were resting on the floor and pulling'. AHA. If I'd known owning furniture would have caused these problems, I would have lived in a bare shell, and crawled from room to room so as to spread pressure equally.

We do live in a ridiculous world.