Mark decided spur of the moment-like to come visit. He told me (drunk) on Friday night to set my alarm for 5:30am, so I could call him and wake him up and he could get on the road and be here earlyish. I too have made plans like that, and just like mine, they got delayed. Excited, I called at the requested time. No answer. I called later, around 7, and sleepy boy mumbled, "Ijesneedalilmoresleep." The ETA changed from noonish to four thirty.
We ate at Hoover's, his favorite place, feasted on catfish, mashed potatos, jerk chicken, cream spinach, macaroni and cheese...damn. Then we met up with another Marc and a few friends at Lala's, the land of perpetual Christmas on Burnet. There I learned that in addition to never shooting tequila a
gain (the one New Year's 
resolution I maintain year after year), I may have to swear off whiskey. Stories were shared, jokes were told, Al Green was played on the juke box, and we racked up an impressive tab. After that, we got the idea to rent a movie, so we stumbled into Blockbuster, where I sorta yelled, "YA'LL GOT POOTIE TANG?" Happily, they did.(I'm leaving out the X-rated part of the evening, but I will say that everything has fallen off my bathroom shelf.)
This morning we suffered through headaches screaming for Excedrin and tried to pretend Mark didn't have to go back to Lubbock so soon. We drove for about a half hour, trying to decide where to eat lunch while I choked back upchuck. Mark didn't help, making fake puke noises, which made me laugh, hit his arm and weakly cry "stop it!" unconvincingly. My dehydrated body was fragile--it wasn't long til I was cry-laughing, a state Mark and I often put each other into. I love that.
He left a few hours ago, and I went back to sleep. My sheets still smell like him. Unfortunately, so does my bathroom.
That is all. For now.
