The thing about going away is that you remember all the things that are so wonderful about home. Like your own bed in your own bedroom with your own pillows (etc). Certainly your own bathroom with actual, y'know, water pressure sufficient to wash the lather out of your hair. Your own kitchen wherein you can have breakfast any time you like (with your own coffee machine which makes it just the way you like, though sugar lumps in interesting shapes were quite fun).

And your own music. We whisked away down to the coast on Friday afternoon, toting CDs for the drive. Being reintroduced (ho ho) to Faith No More just about gave me a paroxysm of Mike Patton delight. The man can growl in my ear any day. Shame he's such a reprobate. (Management recommends "Last Cup of Sorrow" for those wishing to partake. "Gentle Art of Making Enemies" also always good for the degenerate.)