It is 9:25 PM. There is the Bear convention in town. Come to find out, my hotel is the host hotel for the Bears. Blake Lewis (who I nearly worship—not quite, but close) is performing live at the gay club I went to last night. It’s a Saturday.
I’m in bed.
And happy about it. I didn’t stop moving (or eating) all day. My legs are swollen and throbbing (still haven’t recovered from the weeks of moving the folks) and my calves and knees are screaming at me in anger—(you think I sound old now, just wait till I start blogging about blocked bowel movements and erectile dysfunction)—and I couldn’t feel better. Well, I could. Much. But that’s all relative. It was truly a beautiful day. I was afraid I’d get here and regret spending so much money I didn’t have. I don’t. Not in the slightest. I’ve only gotten teary a couple times today and then just kept moving. I had a huge and fantastic dinner at Wild Ginger. Had to ask the waiter if what I ordered would be taken care of with the cash I had—including tip and tax. He very sweetly and non-judgmentally assured me I’d be fine. If I didn’t ask, I would have been stressed the whole time wondering what would happen if I couldn’t pay and how mortifying that would be. I’ve had that happen several times at the grocery store, and that is embarrassing enough, but at least then you haven’t eaten the food.
I can’t afford to pay for the internet at this hotel (which is crazy—it should be included when you have a nice hotel). One of the perks of blogging is that it is so instantaneous. To post this some time tomorrow almost feels like lying somehow, but whatever.
Here is what I have learned about Seattle. Apparently, no one (NO ONE) jaywalks. Ever. They all stand on the corner and wait until the little white walk guy lights up. Even when there are no cars in sight. They all just wait there! Even when I keep walking (which I did every time), no one else joined. I was the lone lawbreaker. I honestly don’t get it. I wonder if there is some huge fine or jail time that Seattle police enforce. I guess I should be glad I didn’t get caught.
I also learned that StarFire’s husband was here first.
I don’t know what that means, but the insane woman who was yelling it to everyone that could hear was very insistent about it. And angry. She seemed to be under the impression that we were questioning his original authenticity of location.
I also discovered that I am an idiot. Not that we didn’t know this already. I am on the twentieth floor of my hotel. In the elevator back up to my room, there were guests on the 28th and the 30th floors. On our way up, the elevator doors opened and no one got off. In my sarcastic voice, I said, “Well, okay then…” and hit the door-closed button, obviously a little perturbed and perplexed why someone would hit a button that wasn’t their floor. After the woman and her kids got off on the 28th floor, I suddenly realized my error. The two lesbians across the elevator looked at me kind of cockeyed. Probably wondering if I was stalking them or something. To break the uncomfortable silence in the enclosed space, I said, “Apparently, I’m the moron who didn’t get out on his own floor.” To which they were still dying laughing about at they stepped into the hallway of the 28th floor.
It’s amazing how much I did in twelve hours today. It feels like three days.
I said my prayers for and about Chad and myself (together and separately) as I watched the sun go down into a sunsetless sky over the water, so I am going to leave it at that.