Every day is a winding road.

Yesterday was more of a drop-off. With no pick-up. Dad and Jenny forgot me at the hotel and so I spent last night in room 17, contacs in, no toothbrush, no special lotion to make my skin soft, no cute pajamas or orange alarm clock to wake me up. Just me, my purse, and room 17.

So before I went to bed, I walked down the beach and sat on the wall. A man named Sean came and sat next to me and started talking. His dad is from the Bahamas and his mom from Grand Turk. He lives in Providenciales and is here visiting family. He does dredging and dock-building. He loves Jazz and aparently Corona. He is happy with life . . .as the world turns seems to be his life motto. We began talking about God and freewill until his buddies called him to leave.

So, um, that was weird.

Went back to room 17, watched an episode of Friends I had never seen before and two that I had. That was fun. Then I tried to go to bed. It didn't work. I woke up in the middle of the night and read a while. Woke up a few hours later to Joe coming in to work on the windows. Thank heavens for those chain locks.

Up and sleeping in Dad's office. Three cheers for a pink recliner. Wait, did I actually condone a pink recliner?