I am thrilled to report that Trevor is home. (And for readers who persist in believing that the "I" of this blog is actually Trevor, please note that I am not speaking of myself in the third person-- I only do that on Facebook. I am me, and Trevor is Trevor. I am traveling with Trevor, though you are certainly welcome to join along.)
To celebrate his being home, we went out with friends. We have a social life! We ate pizza on a hill overlooking Chipata lights (surprisingly beautiful), watched kids frolic, petted a fat little dog, listened to a German guy sing Bruce Springsteen with a charmingly German accent, and got home ridiculously late (for us).
This morning my cold slammed me back into bed while Trevor worked in the garden, cleaned house and washed clothes. That's not the only reason I'm glad he's home, but it doesn't hurt.