Sunday, February 22, 2015

Sunday night

Sunday nights are generally "wind down" nights. By dinner, I like to have all the laundry done, lunches for the next few workdays figured out and the Monday lunch packed so I can spend the last few hours of the weekend just relaxing.

Unfortunately, thanks to the holidays and numerous award shows, my usual Sunday night escapism television show hasn't been around since early December. As a result, I've been reading, or streaming an episode of whatever program I'm currently working my way through, or both simultaneously.

Things have been pretty quiet in general lately. I'm not complaining, but it doesn't give me much for blog fodder. A number of friends are dealing with really hard situations in real life, and praying for them is a priority. It hurts my heart that they have to endure these things. I'm working through some things myself - nothing anywhere near as difficult as they are - enough to keep me in a more contemplative, introverted mood.

Soon, however, I'll be forced to mingle and make conversation with two hundred some strangers. Not just strangers, but tax accountants and attorneys. Sounds like a blast, doesn't it? Packed with great information and wonderful firsthand tales of incredible accountancy, these conferences are pretty much a nightmare for an introvert. By the end of the second day, I'm ready to hole up in my room with room service and the television remote, the "do not disburb" sign plastered to the door.

Becoming a hermit would be a shame, as the conference this year is in New Orleans. I've been there twice for a different conference; this particular one is usually in Florida somewhere (Orlando two years ago - worst conference experience ever). Given that this is my third trip there, New Orleans is beginning to feel like home. Or as much like home as it can be for someone who doesn't drink.

Food and music, however, are different stories. I've a plan for a (non-University paid for) special dinner (Antoine's is celebrating their 175th anniversary this year). The conference hotel doesn't have a restaurant that serves dinner, though the lobby bar serves a light sandwich menu all day. Why should they put on a dinner service in a city known for its food? And the concierge should be able to recommend a jazz club close to the hotel. Alas, sitting in an outside courtyard on a sultry night listening to great jazz isn't going to happen - it's only going to get up into the low fifties the few days I'm there.

Which, I should point out, is still thirty-five to forty degrees warmer than it is here (why yes, it is going down to six below zero overnight tonight, with wind chills down close to minus thirty for most of the morning).

The sun shone quite a bit this weekend, enough to remind me that I need to figure out how to clean the giant windows over the patio doors. One can be reached from the loft, but the other means climbing up on the really tall ladder. The outside of the windows will be a snap with the little pressure washer. Of course, I'll get soaked in the process, but sparkling clean windows are worth it.

Hard to believe that next weekend is March. And only two weeks or so until the start of Daylight Savings Time. Boo. I hate the retreat back into going to work in the dark, hate losing an hour, hate trying to adjust my sleeping patterns. I realize I'm in the minority in wanting that extra daylight early in the morning, but honestly, why can't the rest of the world just get up earlier?

Time for me to head off to bed. I managed to go to bed early Friday night, then get up but go back to bed Saturday morning, giving me close to eleven hours sleep. A two hour nap rounded out the day guessed it, I ended up going to bed close to two hours later than usual last night. Getting up at my usual hour this morning (shorting myself those two hours of sleep) has had me yawning since about three this afternoon. Gosh, I really am set in my ways; any disruption to my schedule messes with me for days, even if it's initially getting extra sleep.


Mariel Mohns said...

Not sure where your hotel in New Orleans is located, but the best jazz club in NOLA is called The Spotted Cat on Frenchman Street. It's intimate and off the tourism's where a lot of the locals go. I highly recommend it if it is close/you can get there!

Otherwise, please eat some alligator bites and beignets for me :)

Diane said...

Unfortunately, The Spotted Cat still is a smoking establishment - my asthmatic lungs won't take it. The Three Muses and Snug Harbor are both on Frenchmans as well. I've been to Snug Harbor...but Jason Marsalis (youngest of the family) is playing there's tempting.

melissa said...

I always enjoy your blog fodder. :)

melissa said...

And, btw, it'd be awesome if you had to have a layover in Memphis. I'd come sit with you at the airport. That would be amazing.