Hello my treacherous friends!
This early post is brought to you by the a cup of SBux java and the bright sunny day that started about 2.5 hours ago.
Yes, it's 7 a.m., and yes, I've been mostly awake since about 5, which is apparently when the sun rises here in Boston, directly into my HOTEL WINDOW.
(I checked, and ol' Sol was up at 5:09 this morning. I thought as much!)
Does not the sun know that I was out until after midnight last night? Can not the sun tell that I'm trying to enjoy the daggone heavenly bed that is so vauntedly touted here in the hotel of my choosing? Yes, I know - I could close the drapes, but let's recall that I was out past midnight, and after midnight it's dark here, at which point the early arrival of the sun in the morning isn't a thing of substance or consideration, now IS it? No, it is not.
Also? The trucks and commuters do like to get up and at 'em in this town. 5:30 was the last peaceful moment, I think. Shutting the window helps a bit, but there's a city down there and by gosh it's going to go about it's business!
So, I grab my cuppa joe and look out onto the world down there scurrying to its work, running its errands, accomplishing its daily tasks, and try to commit to memory this bright sunny morning many floors above Back Bay Boston. It's likely that I'll never be here again and it'd be a shame to miss the show.
Today is packed with convention stuff, cruising the Hall o' Vendors (and I'll take pics, prolly), meeting the co-panelists for a drink, and once again searching the greater Boston area for fun stuff to do and new/old places to see (can you say Freedom Trail? I sure can).
Last night it was some fancy-dan fish place in the Faneuil Hall area with an awesome waitron and gigantic desserts....with a city-sized bill to go along with it. Did I check to see what the per diem for my company is before GONG to the fancy-dan fish place? No I did not. That, my friends, is a concern for tomorrow.
Today is all about living. Tomorrow can darn well take care of itself.
Have a great one, y'all.