We got up early, at 0530, and ate some hasty bran before taxiing to the Glasgow Airport. The flight to Amsterdam was nominal and not at all unpleasant; the flight back to the Twin Cities was considerably more taxing, for obvious reasons. We still had a lot of biscuits from the lot we bought for train journeys, and on top of that I decided (perhaps in a temporary fit of insanity) to take the attendant staff up on their offer of ice cream and orange juice. Orange juice does not particularly agree with me at the best of times, and so I alighted from the airplane feeling like my head had been stuffed with hot and subpar porridge. Thus I decided I would like to refrigerate my head somewhere humid, dim blue, and very quiet. MSP will insist on playing thumping pop music, though.
At the point when I post this, I have been awake for approximately 24 hours straight, although my circadian clock stalled for a long time in the sunny afternoon above the Arctic Circle. For this reason I wasn’t very sleepy at midnight GMT, but I ended up nodding over my book on the flight to Colorado. Of course, as with all airports, there was a lot of tedious rubbish with bag-fetching and shuttle-wrangling, and finally we arrived home, where I collapsed gratefully into my own bed.
My parents were, for some reason I have not yet determined, miffed when I sat in a seat somewhat distant (directly kitty-corner) from where they were in an airport waiting area. The reason for my placement was that the nearby chair where I wanted to sit had a lot of crumbs all around it (and thus very bad juju) and the other nearby chair had bad juju for some unspecified reason. I only at that moment decided that juju is the best word for it.
Let me explain in more detail: juju is a personal term for the irrational uckiness I feel about some things. Sitting with my back facing a room; drinking from a glass someone has accidentally used (but not one they have used on purpose); the existence of feet; some chord progressions. They’re utterly illogical, and they just make me feel bad in a sort of obsessive-compulsive way. Often after I mitigate them I can then feel bad about indulging the juju compulsion, because it’s socially weird and sometimes inconveniences others.
As for the terminology, I haven’t done any research into its origin–I have a vague feeling it might have something to do with hoodoo, but originally I heard it used as a phenomenon similar to cooties. At this point I’m using it to mean essentially a vibe I get from something. I don’t know how much explanation this actually needs… In any case, I’m curious as to whether any of the few Best Beloveds who read this have similar problems, or any solutions.