milieu of humid strangeness
"So how did it go," you ask?
I type this, looking down at the clock on the right-hand side of my computer's display. 6:38. I have a little bit of time, but not much. Today I really need to get out of here as early as possible, because I'm taking a long (paid) break in the middle of the day. My houseguest flies home today, and I'm not going to pass up the chance to have one last, lazy, caffeinated lunch with him before taking him to the airport and getting that quiet little lump in my throat I get every time I put someone I care about on a plane.
I write this knowing full well he's going to see it -- if my guess is correct, he'll even see it before I come back for the aforementioned lunch.
He turned out to be exactly the person I thought he was: funny, sharp, observant, but also every bit of genuinely likable that I'd hoped for. The same person who showed up for our late-night phone chats was the same person who Wii-bowled with my friends and -- get this -- charmed my cats. I cannot make this up, people: my prickly, pointy, bitey Edmund thinks my houseguest is here for no other reason than to rub his rotten, orange ears.
So, yes. He charms my cats, makes my husband laugh, fits in immediately with my friends and talks like an equal with my boss.
Oh, yeah, and we did a 645-mile road trip without killing each other.
"Take wrong turns. Talk to strangers. Open unmarked doors. And if you see a group of people in a field, go find out what they're doing. Do things without always knowing how they'll turn out..."
"You're curious and smart and bored, and all you see is the choice between working hard and slacking off. There are so many adventures that you miss because you're waiting to think of a plan. To find them, look for tiny interesting choices. And remember that you are always making up the future as you go."
xkcd - "Choices: Part 4"
We did just that, and I'll put him on a plane today with a mix of gladness and sorrow. Gladness, that he is returning home, because his is not the milieu of humid strangeness that is the American South, but sorrow, because his home is far enough away that it will be quite some time before we jest at each other in person again.
I'm glad you visited, Adam. I'm glad you trusted the lot of us to come down here, never having met any of us. I hope we lived up to your expectations. You certainly lived up to mine.
Now call me when you wake up, so I'll know when to slip out of work and take you to lunch.