Sep 20 2006
Notes from the Road
Well, the detox is officially over. I now have a whole new respect for Pete Doherty, who spends half his life in detox. Fourteen days of it was plenty for me. How do people do it for 28 days? They must be twice as tough, twice as determined, or twice as medicated.
Can I have a martini now?
It certainly was strange getting all dressed up for the conference. My diamonds were happy to see the light of day again, and grumbled something about how they might as well have stayed in the ground for all the sunlight they see. Well, they don’t have the horror of nylons and heels. I’m pretty sure the dream shoes would not have been surprisingly comfortable (or comfortable at all).
The whole time I was there, I was convinced they were going to figure out that I was an imposter and send me back to high school where I belong. I kept looking at all the serious guys in suits and wondered if they felt the same way, and if I would ever feel like a grown-up.
I seriously doubt it.
Last night, my sis called me from the Emergency Room with an emergency of her own: a list of items for me to pick up at Trader Joe’s* on my way to her place. As I wrote down the ever-lengthening list, someone came into the ER to report a puppy frolicking in the parking lot.
*Home of Two Buck Chuck! Good thing the detox is over!