Also, we were fucking freezing, and preoccupied with trying to keep the chickens from getting into the house and making sure we hadn't asphyxiated the guinea pigs overnight.
... there was a lot going on.
Also we were still completely lost. Four hours later when we finally walked into town, it was the wrong town.
Before I went on the trip, I was getting into home decor and read a lot of blogs about modernism and Jonathan Adler and fancy things to do and buy to make your house beautiful.
That night in that house, I pretty much lost all interest or regard for any of that. Apartment Therapy, along with all other non-personal blogs, is now gone from my Google Reader subscription. I don't miss them.
Another thing I've noticed:
When I needed to say something, I only knew the words to say that. Directly. If I didn't know how to say it, I looked it up and practiced it. And then I just freaking said it.
Good afternoon, I have a cough that produces phlegm and I cannot sleep.
I just didn't have the vocabulary to hedge or shyly insinuate something I needed.
Like any writer, I love language and I relish my right and privilege to use English like Scrooge McDuck diving in his vault of gold coins, but ...
...that's a skill to keep in mind.