So I'm sitting at K's desk in DC, typing directly into dland on her computer, which feels different to me, so forgive the typos and general scatter-brainedness.It is very strange to stay in someone else's home, and I'm thinking even stranger when you have free rein and can do anything and be relaxed, but still, everything is different.
For one, she's a little peanut, smaller than I am. How can she type on a keyboard so high? It feels like shoulder height; it's killing me. How does she do that?
It is freezing in here. I know this is because they are college kids and they are careful with their utility bill -- no problem there -- but I haven't been warm since I got out of the car. It doesn't seem to bother her, which makes me wonder if home feels like a greenhouse to her. I cannot abide cold, and one of the things I HATE more than anything in the whole wide world is sitting on a cold toilet seat. It's the only thing I never liked about camping, and it was enough to make me want not to go camping anymore. I'm in for a long night here.
Otherwise, all is well. I parked about two spaces down from her front door in a teeny little space -- I have a teeny little car, but I am the Ace of Parallel Parking. We went out to move it after two hours and saw that the two hour limit doesn't apply on weekends. YAAAY! So I'm staying there until we leave tomorrow, and am not driving all over creation tonight for dinner. Once again, different thinking patterns for college students living in the city and visiting mommies. She was trying to figure out how to get to the restaurant; would her friend pick us up, or else we needed to take the Metro and then a bus. Listen, I said, call a cab. I don't have to do this all the time; I can pay for a cab for the one night that I'm here. So now I'm looking forward to dinner, too.
And, with any luck, a restaurant with heat. Maybe we can sit next to the pizza oven.
