Northwest, yes
Oct. 11th, 2007 01:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightlotusmoonIt's done. I didn't get lost at all. Up 8th street, hang a left on H street, walk straight, stop when I get to 10th street, cross the street on the left to get to the Grand Hyatt.
Adam was standing right outside, having a cigarette; I'd waved at him from across the street. He was tired. He hadn't slept. He'd had a reservation for a room at a hotel down the street (don't ask me why the boss never just puts him in the hotel he's actually working at, that would make sense), but he didn't get off work in the Hyatt until five-thirty in the morning. And when he tried to check into his hotel and park, he wasn't allowed, because it was too late in the night (or too early in the morning, whatever). So Adam wound up parking the work van in a parking lot between the two hotels. He took a nap in the front seat for fifteen minutes. And at six-thirty, he went back into the Hyatt to keep working. Also, he didn't eat. Eight shots of espresso, that's it. I told him to find food. We hugged and kissed, I took his check, and I walked to the Chevy Chase bank on 7th street, where I made a deposit into my savings, and then went back to my own office with enough time to eat my pasta (which was mixed with blueberries), read some of Tapping The Dream Tree, and get back to the library in time for my boss to leave for his own lunch hour.
Adam is getting a little more in his paychecks, now that his boss corrected the error that meant that for a year, Adam was being shorted in his take home pay (Adam will be getting all that money back possibly in the form of new computers and plasmas, since his mother has been wanting a new laptop and we need to replace our desktop). This means that I can pay the rent and have something left over for other bills or savings. That leftover money has been transferred to my checking account. I feel more secure.
Adam was standing right outside, having a cigarette; I'd waved at him from across the street. He was tired. He hadn't slept. He'd had a reservation for a room at a hotel down the street (don't ask me why the boss never just puts him in the hotel he's actually working at, that would make sense), but he didn't get off work in the Hyatt until five-thirty in the morning. And when he tried to check into his hotel and park, he wasn't allowed, because it was too late in the night (or too early in the morning, whatever). So Adam wound up parking the work van in a parking lot between the two hotels. He took a nap in the front seat for fifteen minutes. And at six-thirty, he went back into the Hyatt to keep working. Also, he didn't eat. Eight shots of espresso, that's it. I told him to find food. We hugged and kissed, I took his check, and I walked to the Chevy Chase bank on 7th street, where I made a deposit into my savings, and then went back to my own office with enough time to eat my pasta (which was mixed with blueberries), read some of Tapping The Dream Tree, and get back to the library in time for my boss to leave for his own lunch hour.
Adam is getting a little more in his paychecks, now that his boss corrected the error that meant that for a year, Adam was being shorted in his take home pay (Adam will be getting all that money back possibly in the form of new computers and plasmas, since his mother has been wanting a new laptop and we need to replace our desktop). This means that I can pay the rent and have something left over for other bills or savings. That leftover money has been transferred to my checking account. I feel more secure.
