We arrived in England last night or this morning or something, and then shortly thereafter Chloe brought us the three hours give or take out to Brigg. We stopped somewhere on the M25 for a traditional breakfast—eggs, bacon, sausage, fried tomatoes, and tea—on the way home. Shortly after arriving, of course, Jessie and I crashed heavily since we'd been up since 10h00 the day prior, and by the time we got to the raccoon's house we'd been awake for close to twenty-seven hours.

So far, everything here is going well, though last night I did have a bit of a hormonal breakdown. Before I left home, I had put on a few pounds saying I'd been good and that it was going to be a while before I had any of those things again. Then last night, I was being something of a hormonal bitch and Jessie was eating cookies, so I grabbed one and noshed it. Then I went for a second and zie said zie'd have no sympathy when Kunaporn told me I was too fat for the operation. Needless to say I put down the second cookie.

Later, though, when I was curled up in bed next to Jessie, I couldn't get the thought out of my mind. What if he did refuse, for whatever reason? I almost started hyperventilating over it. To get this close and then be denied... I
don't know if I could handle that. It took much coaxing and petting from Jessie to get me to relax enough to sleep, and I spent a while sobbing into zie shoulder anyway.

I'm too close to success to fail now. Things could still go wrong, but I can't allow myself to think about them. We leave for Thailand on the twelfth, and three days later I go into surgery. I can't consider things happening any
other way.