I don't like Greensboro, NC. No sir.

Apologies for whoever lives in Greensboro, North Carolina, but my 9 hour experience there was not all that pleasant. Allow me to start from the very beginning: Graeme and I planned a trip to Florida, that was meant to commence Thursday (Feb. 19). We were going to drive down to North Carolina in one day, sleep, then make our way down to Clearwater, FL the next day, stay until Tuesday, and then pretty much do the same thing but backwards. Unfortunately, I had to have mono about five years ago (a virus that never fully leaves your body for some reason) and I feel that a good way to say "I love you" is by giving my man some sexy mononucleosis. It's very romantic, really. So Graeme got mono. But we found out at a most inconvenient time. After 14 hours of driving we arrived at our awesome Greensboro Motel 6 room that was somehow colder inside than out, and about twenty minutes later Graeme realized that something in his throat was not quite right. White and greenish spots all over your glands and tonsils means your sick, right? So we attempted to sleep, which was difficult because we were fully clothed (jeans, sweaters, hats, and coats) and not under the sketchy blankets that had lots of holes in them, roughly the size and shape of bullets... then some guy started knocking on our door because he couldn't remember which room was his, and when we so cruelly wouldn't let him in, he hung around outside it for a while, having a lovely conversation with himself.

We left at about 7 am for another fun drive, this time back home. Then we spent four hours in the emergency room, learning that Graeme has mono, went home and slept, then went back today for another four or so hours to find out that Graeme's spleen is not swollen.

Although shitty on the outside, our incredibly short vacation(?) was pretty fun on the way there, when we were optimistic and excited and thought that we were going to Florida. We listened to lots of music and half of a terrible Raymond Chandler book on tape (as read by Eliot Gould!), ate some disgusting biscuits, saw some really awesome mountains and forests while passing through West Virginia. The bestest part though (yeah, I said "bestest"), is that I got to do all those things and spend all that time with my absolute favorite person in this world. The above photo is me looking not so certain about the "cheese" biscuit I bought at "Tudor's Biscuit World". I thought that a cheese biscuit was a biscuit with cheese baked into it. Apparently at their fine establishment, a cheese biscuit means you get an incredibly dry biscuit cut in half with a Kraft Single slice in the middle. Yummmm....