denoumont

its that time in the story, right after the climax, when you finish up the book and youre like... huh. oh. yes. ok. well. hmm.

got home from atlanta earlier this afternoon. i had certainly had my fill of the week there. we did have a lovely dinner on tuesday night with a bunch of people, and i ate shrimp & grits (!!!) which i was very pleased with. the week just seemed to go on forever, thats all. i guess im used to having mornings to do my thing; to wake up, adjust to the office, get my private space & time to work on things; then, after lunch, i can handle interactions & talking and distractions much better. but this past week, it was like 100% "on" time- from 8.30 to 6pm, at the least. and then- sometimes that didnt even end once we left the office. rather, it turned into a dinner where id have to keep being pleasant when all i really wanted (in this order) was : (1) baked potato from room service (i have no explanation for this); (2) run; (3) bath or long shower (4) bed. 

instead, the nights went something like this: leave work; travel en mass to dinner plans; worry about how bad the food would be, since we were in atlanta (sorry its true); worry about whether it is permissible to order alcohol with everyone present (then deciding that i couldnt really worry too much, and ordered sparkling rose. bitches); eat dinner while sitting through same stories i have heard 50x already from my boss; smile and act nice when people ask what im doing next year; somehow get through at least 2, possibly 3 courses; go home and avoid eating mini bar trash or alcohol; sleep until the wake up call early the next morning for another date with the hotel treadmill. sound miserable? it was, in parts. some of it was okay too. i guess im still kind of all-wound-up about the whole trip. its hard to finally feel less jumpy.

last night blake organized a happy hour, so we stormed into a hotel bar in downtown atlanta that was seriously not expecting to serve so many people. it took several attempts for the one, singular, bartender to understand that i wanted a "dirty martini" rather than "a ginger vodka". i mean, do they sound the same to you? painful. after hanging out and meeting some more of the people who work in our atlanta office, i skirted away to meet up with none other than our high school georgia resident, mike chambers. totally random. apparently no one ever comes to visit him in georgia, so when he saw on facebook that i was in town, he offered to drive the 1+ hour to come hang out. we grabbed some drinks in a sketch irish pub nearby, and then hopped a cab, went over to meet another of his friends at georgia tech; walked around trying to find more bars/food; eventually accomplished said task; and eventually cabbed it back to the hotel.  

i guess i was feeling a little skeptic about the night but i had a good time- its so funny when you meet up with people that you havent seen in years. i continued to be in awe that mike has traveled the world as part of the military, and sadly is no longer that boy in the flannel shirt with the cut-off-sleeves like joey from "blossom." i mean, part of me still expects him to look that way! although i guess thats generally what happens when you dont hang out with the same people for like, 10 years. right. it was nice to bop around, also, and see a bit more of atlanta. as far as i can tell, there are some very empty, long streets, where theres no one walking, and there are few cabs, and yet... its a city. i mean, can anyone explain this? it was as if you took a really long walk around wall street at night looking for action. except, you actually might find something there. where we were? not so much. im going to chaulk it up to us not being in the hippest neighborhood, although it was a little eerie.

this morning i remembered that i dont usually drink that much, because i was completely and utterly hungover and could barely move. thankfully, my drunk self knew that the night before, because i had ordered room service coffee & eggs for 7.20 delivery. thankfully, that helped nurse me out of a dangerous place; my stomach is simply not to be fucked with. i barely stayed awake in court this morning, narrowly avoided punching my coworker nick in the face a few times; and thanked little baby jesus that our secretary booked my seat in the airplane very, very far from nick & the boss. this meant i could read the nytimes magazine from last weekend, about women's sexuality, without feeling incredibly, out of control awkward. could you even imagine? you mighta coulda heard a pin drop otherwise. (thats southern speak).

im just looking forward to some serious decompression time this weekend. my dad is flying into florida tomorrow night, and then will drive down sunday to hang out. yay!! this also means i should probably clean, or at least not have crap all strewn about in here. my belly is full of my favorite random crap  for dinner- popcorn, spinach, saltine crackers and jam?! - right about now, i wouldnt move for the world.

xoxo