After about ten days away from New Orleans, it’s time to go home.
It’s been a great vacation–my first real break in five years. The weather’s been great (we managed to miss the hurricane altogether). We’ve had no lost luggage, no missing hotel reservations. And best of all, we’ve gotten to catch up with several people we haven’t seen in some time. Oh–and we saw our friend Ryan’s production of The Septic Wives. If any of you venture up to Provincetown over the next few weeks, don’t miss it.
Most surprising of all, Jonno and I have had a very pleasant time together. You see, under normal circumstances (i.e. during the course of everyday life), there are lots of spaces in our togetherness: I get up early, I spend my day at the office, we eventually see one another in the late afternoon, and then, as often as not, I run back out to rehearsal or meetings or something. Even when I find myself with an evening at home, we tend to separate, wiih him working on his laptop in the kitchen (his de facto office) and me on the sofa in the living room, watching TV and answering email. So, given the prospect of spending more than a week in each other’s company, with relatively few distractions, I was afraid we’d start to get on one another’s nerves. I was happily proven wrong.
I know happiness never makes for good reading–or good writing for that matter. I mean, there’s a reason the New York Times doesn’t run headlines like “EVERYTHING BETWEEN OTIS AND MAYBELLE IS A-OKAY!” You and I would rather read about death and tragedy and near-overdoses than smiling children and puppies. (NB: Oddly, it’s the other way around in advertising, where kids and kittens rule the day.)
Nevertheless, there it is. I’ll try not to mention it again.
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