7 Years 110 days - Relief

Alright, we're back with comedian, the boy and I'm a quitting alcohol.

So I am back home, sweet home.

Fucking hell.

It was very surreal flying into the US into Boston to go home.

It felt good, but fuck me.

We finally made it.

We finally got the fuck home.

What a relief.

What a long fucking journey that was.

Honestly, I've been away for longer, plenty of times.

But nothing was really quite like that.

I think because everything was so up in the air the whole time, it just felt like longer,

even though it did feel quick, it also felt like the weeks were just dragging on and we

didn't know when we were going to get home or if we were going to get home.

And then even in the flight because I still had fucking air in my chest, I didn't care.

I didn't even think about it.

I was like, if something happens, something happens.

I am not stressing over this one fucking Iota.

None of it is in my control.

I asked eight doctors if it's alright.

They all said it's sweet.

So I'm here.

If an air bubble gets in anywhere, then K said ah, whatever will be will be.

That's how I felt.

That's not how my wife felt.

I looked around and my wife was like panicky.

She didn't know what was going to happen.

But it was all sweet.

I didn't even feel a fucking thing at all.

It was just a seven hour flight.

It was good.

And now we are back in Boston.

We did a huge shopping.

Oh, fuck, I get home.

I'm like, we need to go shopping.

We needed to stay up.

We need to stay up a little bit.

So we're not waking up.

It's some fucking crazy hour.

And we're all out of whack.

So I'm like, we'll do some shopping.

The fridge is empty and then we'll go out to fucking dinner.

And I'm like, I'll just turn the car on to make sure it's fucking running.

I'd go out there and the fucking tire is flat.

One of the tires is flat.

There must be a slowly in it or something.

So I have to fucking change the tire.

It's like 10 minutes, I'm fucking in.

I know how to change a fucking tire.

If there was a spare tire in that fucking car in Spain, it would have been a piece of

cake, but there was no goddamn tire or jack.

So I got the tire changed over quickly.

The brakes weren't sounding so good at the start.

I need to change them over.

The rotors were looking pretty fucking rusty.

But after you drive around a bit and fucking knock a bit of that rust off, warm the brakes

up like a fucking F1 driver.

Dodge some potholes.

Then it started sounding pretty good.

The car is running nicely.

Went out to dinner.

I'm pretty cooked now.

I'm pretty fucking cooked.

I am ready for a fucking nap, but it is very weird that Boston is home.

Well, I don't know if I've even fucking really processed the fact that it's coming up on

a year of being in the US now.

Minus this fucking however long we were just away for.

Like it's almost a year.

It's been such a fucking blur, but I'm really going to fucking settle in now.

I'm gonna fucking pay attention now.

Everything has just been so fucking fast paced that I haven't had a fucking moment to even

process anything, but now I'm gonna fucking like I'm gonna be paying more attention to

what the fuck is going on.

But it is weird that we fucking live here and this is home.

I was thinking about it on the plane.

Like does it feel different coming back here?

Then it did like going back to Sydney or Melbourne from a long trip.

And it feels a little bit different because I don't know this place as well as I knew

fucking Melbourne and Sydney.

So even coming out of the airport I'm like what the fuck is going on?

Where am I?

Where the closer we got to our place the more I'm like I yeah.

I know where we are.

This feels familiar.

This kind of feels like home.

And then I was wondering how long does it take for a place to feel like home?

Maybe it will never feel like home home, but Australia never felt like home home to me either.

The closest place was Dramana.

The rest of the places I never felt like home home.

Like there's a Chinese guy that lives next door to us and he's been in Boston for 50 years.

He barely speaks English and he just works his garden all day every day.

He actually broke his fucking shoulder.

He was walking around with the fucking sling.

But I wonder if he feels like this is home.

You have to after 50 years.

Can you imagine the bullshit this Chinese dudes put up with?

In fucking Boston.

He would have rocked up here in the fucking 70s.

Hi.

Ni Hao.

He would have taken a few hits I reckon.

There would have been some discrimination at some point.

He would have felt it.

But I feel like he probably feels like it's home now.

50 years is a long time.

I'm talking like I've been here 10 months.

But starting now I'm going to absorb more.

I don't feel like I've absorbed anything.

I've just been reacting to everything.

Everything's just been hectic.

So I'm going to absorb more things now.

I'm going to pay attention.

I'm going to look around.

I'm going to immerse myself.

But for now I'm going to immerse myself in the fucking bed and try and get a good fucking

10-12 hours in.

So that'll do it for tonight.

It's good to be back and I'll see you the fuck right off.