In April of 2007, a piece of a mountain told me not to go home:
We had that storm Tuesday that dropped several buckets of moisture on Our Town, and I found myself suddenly adrift. See, not only did an enormous boulder block my road home, but the house had no electricity, therefore no running water (no pumps) and no heat (heated by radiant hot water). Needless to say, I did not stay at home much… at all.
The first night I crashed at the girl’s place. This is still awkward, sadly, but no help for it. Happily my pragmatism more often wins out against my self-destruction than not. I skipped work Wednesday morning to buy clean clothes and toothpaste, et cetera. Then went to a 5-hour operational meeting held at the Denver Art Museum. I was wrinkled, and later learned that some of the principles from the West Division had elected to buy me an iron. Maybe a little embarrassing, but at least I didn’t smell bad. During this process Greg calls me and tells me the phones work, but there’s no power so if I’ve got digs in town I should probably not bother with home. Heh.
I didn’t go to class that night, ended up bouncing between watering holes and the office, until it was a bit late to start calling on people in hopes of finding a crash-pad. But lo! Corporate technology project manager arrived in Boulder this evening! I call him and in 10 minutes he sleazes me a room at the “Boulderado” hotel. Wednesday night I spend in Boulder drinking microbrews, listening to reggae (!?), and kind-of-but-not-really interacting with the local girls. It was very difficult to hear.