Blogging from San Diego...

I feel like crap.

The clock in my hotel room reads 945PM, but the clock on my computer tells the truth-it is 1245AM EST. II have been up since 6am, I almost missed my flight, and I'm exhausted.

Just got back from dinner with a client. Still reeling from the fact that today I was paid sit and read a fairly interesting book (The Prestige), work on my ESL paper, and have two glasses of wine and one beer (Stella!) with a client.

I don't think I like San Diego. Seattle was completely charming, very clean, with coffee on every corner (what's not to like about that?). Philadelphia was charming in a ghetto sorta way. Las Vegas is pure kitsch in a good way. In San Diego, everyone looks at you like you are a target.

Or maybe its just because my mother reminded me of how many times she was robbed when they lived here. Paranoia is genetic.

But at least in San Diego I don't have to worry about BillMurray nippinig at my toes. They are safe in San Diego.

My hotel is very nice-to the point I think I was accidentally booked here. Looking at the hotel literature, I see that Mel Gibson, Whitney Houston, and Ike Turner, among others, have stayed in this hotel. Great. I am on par with a racist, a drug addict, and a wife beater. I bet Michael is anxious for me to get home now.

At least the hotel gave me some complimentary truffles and lemonade. Even the box the truffles came in is made out of chocolate and is quite yummy. MMMMM.....CHOCOLATE LID....

Despite chocolate boxes, I miss Michael and the baby and want to be home snug in my bed with Mike curled up beside me. San Diego seems alien to me and it seems like I have to be here forever.

But I do have to be at work by 7am tomorrow so I guess I should get to bed.