Homeward bound.

So, the last of the work is done, we've tested my last city and we're at Sydney Airport waiting for the boarding call. There is a stuffed wombat looking at me from my carry on. And this is the wacky part - we leave in the morning, fly 22 hours and then arrive around about 3 in the afternoon the same day. Who says time travel doesn't exist?

And for the record? Never underestimate Australian beer. Goes down like water, kicks like a fucking donnkey the next day. And before people get uppity at me, drinking age here's 18 and I did most of said drinking in the hotel bar after the meeting.

Thank fuck I'm small enough to curl up and sleep on the plane. Even if it makes Doug want to kill me 'cause he can't.

Hmm, wonder if I can curl up and sleep in the boarding lounge?