Hi Diary,
So as you know I've been on a camping-trip the last nine days, meeting up with a couple of online-friends from a MUD I used to devote a lot of hours to, and I just came back home.

You know how it is to come home, don't you? It's good, in a way. You can sleep in a bed you know once again, catch up on what has happened while you were gone, relax and think of what you experienced.
And then, it's bad. You realize you used to have sand in your hair, and that it's gone now. You think of how you lived close to people for a few days, intensely. Small spaces inside a caravan, eating together, sleeping together, getting wet together, sharing each other's dirty laundry.
People you haven't met before but somehow have a feeling you know. I think this kind of encounters are important to me.

Now it's slowly closing up on midnight and I don't think I'll be able to stay awake for much longer. Supposedly, in a few days I will have settled at home again, found things to occupy myself with and come to think less and less of this trip, but right now the good-byes are fresh in my memory; there is no sleep in between me and them to reboot me for a new and different time.
For now, it's more sweet and less bitter. Home again is not bad - my kitten, Amos, is playing with my toes, and even though I haven't been gone for very long, he seems to have grown quite a bit - but only half of me is home by now.

I remember it fondly, and I wanted to tell you this before I go.