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I looked down at the snowstorm of crumbs stuck to my tray-table, then up at the two gossiping slobs adorned in Alaska Airlines uniforms. Mid plane, they were slouched over opposite seats, ignoring the passengers who were jamming check-in sized luggage into the overhead compartments. Heck, they even ignored my handsome smiling arse as I walked by. It was going to be a rough trip home. About 30 hours later I rolled back into Tas, with a rotten case of tonsillitis ravaging my throat. Apportioning blame was going to be tough; the cabbage fart smelling air of the most gangsta city in Canada; the filthy state of the Alaska Airlines plane; or overloading on episodes of Two & a Half Men on the way home. Whatever the culprit, I've been wallowing in self pity and penicillin for the past week and suspected if I didn't get back bloggerizing the real estate industry with self indulgent vitriol, I may never get back to it at all. While away, I marvelled at the invention Josef Fritzl gave...