Jet-lagged blogging at its finest

It's good to be home. Fresh fruits and vegetables. Tap water. My own bed. My dog and cats (though after spending an hour defending my food from Bissell as I tried to cook and enjoy my dinner, I had second thoughts about how nice it was to see him). I've already been to the pool twice within 18 hours of setting foot back in the States.

Dear Swimming: I've missed you. I loved you every moment of today, even when doing a 400 Zone 4 in the pool.

Tomorrow I get back on my bike - SO HAPPY! Granted, it will probably be on the trainer, but that's still loads better than a stationary bike with an uncomfortable seat.

I finished reading Upton Sinclair's The Jungle. Most depressing book ever. I didn't know much about the book before I started it, just that it talked about the meat production industry (which sounds disgusting, btw, and it may have even turned me off from bacon for life). A family of immigrants from Lithuania moved to Chicago at the turn of the century to make a better life for themselves. Instead, they were forced into sweatshops, working long hours for little pay, no benefits, in dangerous jobs. And so the book went, getting more depressing by the page. It ends with a plug for socialism and its benefits. As I was finishing the book, capping it off with the last few chapters on socialism, I was sitting on my flight home in business class, sipping champagne. Ironic much?

And now... I sleep. Stupid jet lag.