In which Wednesday fidgets strike

Two and a half days.

By the second Wednesday away from home, I've reached the end of my patience with being on the road. It's as predictable as the sun rising. I'm counting down the workdays until I can hit the road for home. At least I'm not yet counting the hours. At least, not unless I start to wonder.....

John has been counting days since he met me at the airport on Sunday. "Four and a half days", he said. He thinks that it's the time of year. Maybe that's it. I am thankful that the hotel has gone all-out to decorate for the holidays. Other than the guest rooms, the hotel has achieved a level of Christmas cheer that almost equals that of home. Poinsettias seem to be occupying every alcove, and a huge tree dominates the foyer of the hotel, as well as the lower first floor foyer. The large table that usually graces the foyer has been moved to the north entrance, and now holds a huge white and silver arrangement of fresh flowers. The lilies have suffused the large conversational space with fragrance.

Unlike last year in Portland, I have not been motivated by the lack of decor to head to Target for a tiny tree to decorate and a poinsettia. I suppose knowing that home is Christmasy is some comfort, and that probably only makes me more antsy.

39 hours.