Our time in Italy has just about come to an end. We’re working one more day, phew, and we’ll be on a big jet plane tomorrow morning. That is, if ‘The Strike doesn’t effect our flights.

The Strike

Turns out the little pepperonis at the airport plan and advertise a series of strikes over the course of the year. How courteous. Well, working men are pissed, so, from noon to 4pm tomorrow, Air Italia is laying down their tools (those orange flaggers they use to guide the jets into the terminal) and taking a breather. Which, of course, might fuck with our flights. Arrgh. Viva Italia.

I’m tired. I miss my home. This whole trip came up so quick and dirty, before I knew it, I was over here and neck-deep in projects. Yikes. I have done my best to stay strong, battling a broken iBook rig, jetlag and a mysterious bout of lower back pain yesterday in Milan.

Back pain? Who knows. We were on the subway, it jerked and caught me by surprise, and I’ll-be-a-overcooked-piece-of-rigatoni, something went wrong in my lower back. Weird. Pain, intense pain. Fear, big Italian fear. I’ve been lucky to be blessed with a good health, so, my mind gets to working on what be wrong real quick: Slipped disc? Pinched nerve? Stretched muscle? Paralyzation? Yikes. I had a hard time catching z’s last night, so, things are a little rough today. I’m fighting to stay strong, I’m fighting.

So yeah, we’re almost outta here, and it has been wonder-full, on so many levels. Great food, beautiful surroundings, friendly people, great accommodations, comfortable transport, big office and, a million manufacturing options to choose from for our top-secret project. Good times, good time.

I hope we can get on our flight tomorrow.