Home tomorrow...

I have only one sleep left here in Hout Bay. How that happened I have no idea. One minute my plane was touching down on the Cape Town International tarmac, the next I am wondering if all the souvenirs I bought will fit into my suitcase for the trip home.
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Sigh.
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It has gone too fast. But weirdly enough I am also looking forward to being home. To hugging my schnoogi boogi and my hubsband.
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At the moment I'm sitting at the Hout Bay Wharf watching the seagulls swooping over all the fishing boats. The wind is whipping my hair into a tangled knot but I really can't be bothered. I've polished a punnet of sweet sultana grapes by myself and fully intend to polish a fish and chips here at the Mariner's Wharf for supper also.
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Its one of those things you simply HAVE to do when you're at the Cape.
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Who am I to scoff at local traditions?
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I'll worry about the fat, and the tons of it that I'm gaining, later. Why spoil the fun.
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That reminds me - I have a theory about the heffalumpiness of my stomach. Before I went and bought myself some perkiness, my stomach was getting ample sunshine. Due to there not being anything to create shade above it. Apart from my heavy chin, that is. And then, I went and had some panelbeating done and increased my cleaverage, and my stomach thought I'd moved to the UK, what with the lack of sunshine on it and all. So my stomach made a plan to increase it's surface area, so as to still get a bit of sun every day.
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Ok, so I might not be a nuclear physicist, but that's my theory and I'm sticking with it. Through thick or, um, very thick.
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