The Prince is in the castle.
Elvis is in the building.
However you want to say it; the Man-Cub is home! It required three flights and way more time spent stewing in the miasma of airport germs than I would have preferred, but, he's home! He'll now go on a seven day quarantine to ascertain that he didn't pick up anything unwelcome on the journey which, considering our governor's recent Stay at Home orders, was pretty much going to stifle his ability to run around, anyway.
Despite the new restrictions, Hugh and I are both still gainfully employed. However, if I will be working from home a bit of the time, I am going to have to figure out the whole work/life balancing act. I'm thinking the Cub and I will have to find a hobby we can do together; maybe we'll take up knitting.
All work and no play make Chelle a very bad roommate...
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