Scotland day 0

Bags are checked, I've handed off the house keys to sister-in-law, and I am at the airport with a trashy paperback, a half-knitted sweater, and a bottle of Benadryl. My body is ready.

First it's a red-eye to the Pacific Northwest - where I will not be embarrassing myself or tweeting like a middle-schooler (because I'm on Threads now) - and then it's non-stop to England. Once I am completely confused by the 11-hour time change and full of airport coffee, beer, and Toblerones, I just have to fly to Edinburgh, find the tram to the railway station, ride a train for a couple hours, get off at the correct stop, catch a bus into St. Andrews, and try to find the apartments in the dark. EASY.

6 legs, each in its own color

There is a hurricane on its way, so I showed Sue where the plywood is and said BYEEEE. 

The weather in Scotland is a sultry “holy shit I’m freezing to death”, and that sounds pretty good right now. Let’s go.