It's been like three years in a row. I've written every single day and got it on-line ... somehow. I've been all over the country and in several Caribbean Islands and Central America and still wrote every day. On our honeymoon, Sarah slept late and I wrote on the balcony in Belize. Between looking at Sarah sleeping and the Sea, it took me a long time to get anything done, but I did.
After an extremely successful celebratory night ... after the Beloved Dawgs of Georgia assumed the throne of the SEC East ... Bill Berry (not the drummer for REM but the other one) and I ended up in a hot top full of black people. We toasted and laughed.
The next thing I knew I woke up ... in the hotel room bed ... I have no idea how I got there.
I was instantly awake and ready to go.
Stumbling to the other bed room in the condo, Bill was snoring. I assume he had no idea how he got to bed either.
The sun was rising.
The living room looked like a National Linen Truck had crashed into it. Clothes were everywhere.
It took me a while to fund my phone under one of the piles.
I needed coffee bad. So I threw the clothes in my UGA bag, grabbed the phone and jumped in the car. First I wrote Bill a text ... "Later", it said.
An hour and a half later my phone starts buzzing. It was Bill wanting to know where in the hell I was.
I couldn't take the call because I was holding my head with one hand and driving with the other.
The phone kept buzzing. Staring at it through the two pair of sunglasses I was wearing, it was friends wanting to know where in the hell my blog was.
"Shit," I thought to myself. "I forgot to blog too."
Then Bill was calling me nasty names so I put the phone back under the clothes which were then in the back seat.
The sun came up so I put a third pair of sunglasses on and hit the cruise control.
The radio was blasting the Acoustic Storm. Cops blew by me. I put the top down and my hair blew in the wind. The throw up feeling went away.
"Ah," I thought to myself, "I'm ready to be home."
