you begin to wonder why you came

It's incredible, and I never imagined I'd have this feeling, but I'm actually a little tired of traveling. I'm never the type to wish that I was back home, but I think the combination of sickness + all the short hops I've made between weddings, volcano-induced layovers, offices, etc. + the crushing amounts of work I have are starting to get to me. It's mostly the sickness, I'm sure, but I will admit that I'm v. much looking forward to going home in a few days (even if that home is in the midst of a meltdown of unpacking and I have to leave again in six days for Japan).

Anyway, today was v. productive and not at all interesting to any of you (except perhaps to my mother, who seemed happy that I finally called home -- but she experienced that live, without having to read about it in the blog later). I made it into the office and slogged all day, a combination of meeting with people, setting up meetings with more people, and catching up on the emails that had piled up over the last few days. I had lunch with a couple of guys whom I had just met with, who were kind enough to ask me to have lunch with them; the food in the Dublin cafe (canteen) was just as lackluster as I remembered it, so I'm glad (?) that some things haven't changed. Then, I slogged the rest of the afternoon, threw in the towel around six p.m., and walked back to the hotel.

When I got here, I intended to avoid my hermitish desires and make myself have dinner in the restaurant, rather than just ordering room service like I wanted to. But when I went down to the restaurant, they said they were all booked up (apparently by a tour group of octogenarians, all of whom were eating early) until eight p.m. So, I came back upstairs, ordered the room service I originally wanted, and had it in my room twenty minutes later (from the same restaurant that wouldn't be able to seat me for another ninety minutes). Score. Granted, the caesar salad with chicken was like all salads I've ever had in Dublin (not-so-good lettuce, too heavy with the dressing, and so much bacon and cheese that it didn't taste like a salad), so I only ate half of it, but I did get a pint-sized glass of Diet Coke, so that made me a happy camper.

As mentioned above, I talked to my mother for an hour and a half; it was v. satisfying to whine about my cold to a real person rather than just sniffling about it to myself or complaining on the blog. After we got off the phone, I wanted to read a book and go to bed. Instead, like a good little corporate soldier, I opened up my laptop and worked for three hours (with a quick break to upload photos from Versailles, below). And now, I really must sleep; I need to go to the office tomorrow morning somewhat early, so there's no sense staying up late now. Goodnight!