I cannot express just how much I love going home to people who love me and who want to spend time with me.  And people who touch me.  I miss being touched–no one where I live touches me.  No hugs, no arm holding, no hand holding, no bum slapping/pinching, no arms around waists, no resting your chin on someone’s shoulder, no wrestling, no poking sides, no nothing.   This applies to both genders.  I forget how touchy I really am until I’m here and my quota finally starts filling up after running on empty for months.

I’ve had a superb birthday weekend already, and I still have most of one day left.  Then it’s back to real life, I suppose.

I love my friends.