I’m in Durham, N.C., at a Comfort Inn near I-40, decompressing before a weekend blitz of multimedia training at UNC — Chapel Hill. I’m pretty excited about it; whatever I learn I’ll be expected to bring back and spread among the designers at the newspaper. So I’m hoping it’ll be chock full of good stuff.
I am so so so glad I went ahead and got that shot yesterday. I’ve felt more or less like a champ all day. I’ve been in a good mood and my snot’s been manageable and, most importantly of all, my head did not explode and rain down infection inside the cabin when the plane’s pressure changed. Now that’s worth celebrating with a $7 bottle of Cava (Rondel Piura Raza) that I will not be asking the company to comp, thankyouverymuch!
Man, I love hotels. Love, love. I always feel a little like I’m living someone else’s life when I stay in a hotel. Someone else’s temporary life, temporarily. It’s weird. I love hotel beds and hotel pillows and hotel air conditioners and hotel television and hotel shampoo bottles and hotel water pressure and stiff hotel towels and tiny hotel ice buckets and uncomfortable hotel wingback chairs and continental breakfasts and key cards.
Tomorrow I have to get up early and be at campus at 9 a.m., which is something I didn’t even do when I was IN college. I can’t wait to get acquainted with UNC’s parking situation. Here’s hoping I don’t get cut like you do in Murfreesboro when trying to get a space.
My goal is to live in a hotel full time.