Me: no naps. As of this minute, thirty-three hours straight without sleep. Shall I try for seventy-two, the legal insanity, or shall I go to bed? I don't think you have a choice in the matter. That lumpy, humidity absorbing bed is calling my name.
Flights: Officially the worst experience flying ever. But, we got here, nothing was canceled, and even though the airlines are official idiots, I didn't boil over. I blame that on sleep deprivation. Most of the time I didn't know what was going on. Let's just say, in Newark, I visited something like four gates, we had about fifteen delays (that's no hyperbole), and it was the fourth plane they announced they assigned us (as there were many more assigned to us but simply swam away) that we took to Burlington. The other three? Mechanical troubles. Eep.
My room: a little shoebox. Dormitories, these are. Inn, not exactly.
My experience thus far: glory. I will sleep under the bed every night just to stay here. Trish Hampl read her that precise prose of hers as a thunderstorm came in over the mountain (nope, not a hill, but a gen-u-ine mountain, complete with mountain fog and mountain trees and mountain streams).
My technology: iffy. I'm on the wireless here in the room, though it's weak. I still don't have the thingy to upload photos. I want to though, I really do. Already, there's so much to show and tell. But most stupid: I forgot (they warned us!) the rooms are equipped with a single two prong outlet. My laptop and its pathetic battery has a three prong. I hope that, along with books and toothpaste and postcards, the bookstore sells adapters. I might want a better pillow too.