It was strange. It’s like almost four in the morning and I was AMPED. Possibly because I had been so sure I would be using that energy for something er… recreational. Or maybe I just needed to wind down from the dancing and drinking. I came in and put my PJs on and turned the air conditioner back onto the ‘freeze your fucking ass off’ setting and grabbed my cell phone. Then I thought Kate, who in the sam hell are you going to call at 4am? The answer? You know that you know... Why, Mr. I, of course. How did I rationalize/validate this call in my mind? Well, he had called me a month or so ago at 2am and I was drunk - you do the math.
I was so excited, just brimming with it. I was having such a good time and I was dying to tell him about it. I wanted to tell him about everyone that I had met and all that we had done and what I thought of everything and every one and as if to answer my silent begging, he was awake. He stayed on the phone with me for the better part of an hour and let me go on and on about anything and everything I could think of starting with the flight, the trip to Veronique's and ending with me lying in bed. I didn’t realize I had missed him until I got him on the phone. It had been what? Twenty-four hours since I had talked to him? Well, a lot had happened in twenty-four hours :) (I was surprised when The Girl said I hadn’t kept her up, what with her being in the next room and all.) Anyway, he was great, letting me go on and on until I wore myself out. I hung up with him and set my alarm for 9:30 (check out was at 11) and rolled over and passed smooth out.
Sunday...
