So fine, I'm a Philistine

Last night I had an entirely free night.

Free as in, didn't cost anything. And free as in, I went out with my friends and slept at home in DC. It felt like a mini-vacation being back in my old life. I woke up in my bed, in my sheets, in my periwinkle room, to my old alarm.

Personally, I hate Nick's alarm, which wakes you up to NPR - loud. Because honestly, do you really want to wake up to 14 dead in Baghdad? Heavy traffic on the Woodrow Wilson bridge? The recession?

I think not.

I like my beeping alarm, inches from where I can snooze it. It is a sound Nick hates to wake up to. How we will compromise on this, I'm not sure.

Anyway. It's not that I want to be apart, but last night it was so nice to be in my old life.

Laura and another friend and I were talking about when I'm moving to Virginia. They both said they don't like this move across the river one bit. Because, for those of you who don't live in the area, while moving to Virginia is not like getting on a train car to Auschwitz, people don't tend to come back.

Nick takes it as a criticism of him, of his place. Which it is not. It's more that people go to the suburbs and you lose them.

You leave the city to go home after work? You don't come back in for a quick beer with your friends. It's too much effort. And your friends don't tend to want to come out to you. And I can't blame them - especially the ones without cars.

And this morning I rolled out of bed late, because, um, it's a 15 minute walk to work. So I can. Yum.

But Wednesday evening with my friends. Local 16 had a party sponsored by Peroni on their upstairs deck. It was a gorgeous evening. And it turned out they were offering free beer! And they had all these trays of hors d'oeuvres. Free sausage!

So I'm a Philistine, because does it get any better than free beer and sausage?

Hardly.