My luggage, however, is a completely different story. They think it never made it onto the plane in Pittsburgh (for no good reason, I was there with plenty of time to twiddle my thumbs. And NOTHING is open on Christmas in the airport.) and it *should* be on a plane today, and then get delivered to me.
My two favorite pair of jeans are in there. As well as, you know, everything I got for Christmas (including the giftcards, but minus the cash and jeans I wore on the plane ride home)
Dave normally mocks me for never checking luggage. This is why I try not to. He's flying today for a gig, and is having to check his tools. And is now nervious about it. I'm not taking any glee in his anxiety, only because I don't actually want to see him cry if his tools get lost. I am not THAT sort of evil bitch of a girlfriend; I'm the other sort.