More activity in the hallway than usual for this time of the morning.

Another quiche. But really I just want bacon and scrambled eggs. Coffee.

I do love the moodiness of this fog. Somewhere beyond are skyscrapers and bridges and the bay.

I shouldn’t let this little thing bother me.

Heart racing. Breathe. It’s just anxiety. I am okay.

We find the next hotel. This one at least has a kitchenette. I’m so over take-out.

This was a great surprise, she says. We walk them around the resort and they snack on macaroons while overlooking the tennis courts. Laughter.

What they really mean to ask is do we regret our choice. We regret nothing.

So tired. What day is it?

Angry at everything and at nothing.

Things I forgot to pack: the hair dryer with a comb attachment, hair oils, one nice shirt, lotion, more than one sweater, flip flops for the kids in case we go to the pool, one collection of short stories by Alice Munro.

I take myself and my feelings back to the balcony and finish up work for the day.

Still angry.

If they say no, it’s okay because I don’t need it anyway. But it’s good to have the option.

He calls us to ask if there’s anything he can get from the house for us because he’s swinging back through town. Of course, this time I locked all of the doors. I think about the spoiling food in the refrigerator.

She helps me reserve the meeting room for two different days so that I can have some quiet.

How does one lose their glasses in a bag full of bit of fried pickles?