back.
back in the office today. Odd, feels like I've been gone longer than a week. Still feeling dislocated from the trip, like I'm not really here, not really there. I'm enjoying drinking coffee from a real mug. No more styrofoam for a while.
It's the small things that bounce around in my head, gathering momentum and importance, growing louder and louder until it seems everything hinges on a tiny detail.
It was good to get away. Three days of minimal communication. Hotel valets. Restaurant servers. The too-infrequent phone conversations with the love of my life.
But nothing else. Solitude I could grab tightly, clutch and hoard for a few days in Miami. The hotel was great. In three days, I never saw another guest. Faint converstations heard behind closed doors, but never a face. Stepping out of the tiny elevator, my floor was noticably cooler than the lobby. My room had marble floors. The shiny marble, echoing steps, and constant AC made the room feel like a cell. I enjoyed it. Cold, hard floors and walls to keep everyone out. Huge bed, huge wooden chair. Television or laptop providing low background noise. If I had a white noise generator it would have been perfect.
One of the paintings on the wall was terrifically unbeautiful. I had to stare for a few seconds before I could decide exactly how much I disliked it. I had a photo that was intended for the bathroom mirror, so I taped her picture in the center of the frame with long strips of electrical tape.
My window looked out at the empty eye socket windows of the building next door. The coffee was always hot, steaming on the armrest of the insanely curving wooden chair. I woke early every morning; enough time for the first coffee before I showered.
Showered, dressed, out the door.
Hot and humid, just like what I left. The valets always turned the air conditioner off in the car. It's a short drive to the convention center, but still managed to take 20 minutes. Then walking, walking, one end of the center to the other, followed by sitting, sitting, watching presentations on huge screens. Repeat.
Listening to everything. Heartbeat. Breathing. Footfalls. Crowds buzzing around me like social insects as I slip around, past, through. No need for the jibber-jabber. Session, then hotel, then back home.
And now I'm back.
Avoiding storytime by pleading work overload. Feeling the impending jitters from too much coffee. Still feeling a sense of motion, haven't settled in yet. That will come tonight. Finally cooler weather. This weekend I will carve a pumpkin. Or not. I may go to the Botanical Gardens. Or not. Either way it's a weekend with K. Finally. Week seemed so long. I knocked her photo off the nightstand the first morning in Miami when reaching for the alarm. Chipped the glass. I felt guilty about it, though I'm not exactly sure why. I'll make it up to her tonight.
Type type type.
Post.
Back to work.
It's the small things that bounce around in my head, gathering momentum and importance, growing louder and louder until it seems everything hinges on a tiny detail.
It was good to get away. Three days of minimal communication. Hotel valets. Restaurant servers. The too-infrequent phone conversations with the love of my life.
But nothing else. Solitude I could grab tightly, clutch and hoard for a few days in Miami. The hotel was great. In three days, I never saw another guest. Faint converstations heard behind closed doors, but never a face. Stepping out of the tiny elevator, my floor was noticably cooler than the lobby. My room had marble floors. The shiny marble, echoing steps, and constant AC made the room feel like a cell. I enjoyed it. Cold, hard floors and walls to keep everyone out. Huge bed, huge wooden chair. Television or laptop providing low background noise. If I had a white noise generator it would have been perfect.
One of the paintings on the wall was terrifically unbeautiful. I had to stare for a few seconds before I could decide exactly how much I disliked it. I had a photo that was intended for the bathroom mirror, so I taped her picture in the center of the frame with long strips of electrical tape.
My window looked out at the empty eye socket windows of the building next door. The coffee was always hot, steaming on the armrest of the insanely curving wooden chair. I woke early every morning; enough time for the first coffee before I showered.
Showered, dressed, out the door.
Hot and humid, just like what I left. The valets always turned the air conditioner off in the car. It's a short drive to the convention center, but still managed to take 20 minutes. Then walking, walking, one end of the center to the other, followed by sitting, sitting, watching presentations on huge screens. Repeat.
Listening to everything. Heartbeat. Breathing. Footfalls. Crowds buzzing around me like social insects as I slip around, past, through. No need for the jibber-jabber. Session, then hotel, then back home.
And now I'm back.
Avoiding storytime by pleading work overload. Feeling the impending jitters from too much coffee. Still feeling a sense of motion, haven't settled in yet. That will come tonight. Finally cooler weather. This weekend I will carve a pumpkin. Or not. I may go to the Botanical Gardens. Or not. Either way it's a weekend with K. Finally. Week seemed so long. I knocked her photo off the nightstand the first morning in Miami when reaching for the alarm. Chipped the glass. I felt guilty about it, though I'm not exactly sure why. I'll make it up to her tonight.
Type type type.
Post.
Back to work.