Currently, I’m lounging on a sofa sipping coffee, and yawning uncontrollably. Thursday afternoon, kissed the Mister goodbye, before he left for work. Earlier that morning, we hung the dart board in the basement after sharing breakfast.

Wednesday, at eight, we sped down the interstate and I narrowly avoided being sucked out the sunroof of the Mister’s SUV when the front of the queen-sized mattress tied to roof caught a gust of air. (Note to self, don’t be so fucking stupid). The good news is the guest bedroom is fully equipped. Wednesday morning, jet lagged, I swore uncontrollably at the neighbor’s dog who barked an early morning wake-up call because a jogger passed by.

Tuesday afternoon, I sat next to the Mister as he navigated the traffic on the downtown connector while simultaneously muttering obscenities about Atlanta drivers. One hour prior, I tracked my flight over the courtesy monitor, and noticed our flight path passed near this blogger’s home and this blogger’s home, but I thought better of requesting the flight crew make unscheduled stops. When I looked down at the Appalachian Mountains, bordering North Carolina and Tennessee, I was reminded of the short hike we took Saturday. The world is a small place. At 9AM that morning, I completed a pen and ink drawing in my travel sketchbook.

At 8AM I was engrossed in Catcher in the Rye. At 5:30AM I was drinking pinot noir and eating grilled salmon. At 3:30AM, I waited for name to be cleared from the standby list.

Monday evening, between the hours of 7 and 12PM, I tossed and turned, counted sheep,and sang the lyrics of all the Aimee Mann songs I could remember in my head. At approximately 8PM I took an ibuprofen tablet to combat the unfortunate side effects of the headache which resulted from the over-consumption of champagne gifted to me by a flight attendant on my arrival flight to Frankfurt. I turned off the lights in anticipation of the 2AM wake-up call. Between 1 and 4 PM I dined on authentic German cuisine with the Mister and some of his coworkers in Frankfurt. (Jagerschnitzel, potatoes even Dr Adkins couldn’t resist, and respectable beer) Between 9AM and 12PM, the Mister and I explored the plotz at Wiesbaden.

Sunday evening at 2AM I arrived at the Frankfurt. I lamented the briefness of the trip, and regretted my indecisiveness regarding travel. Had I known a few days in advance I would have contacted, this lovely expat. Between the hours of 10PM and 1AM, I read the Catcher in the Rye. Between the hours of 5PM and 9PM I finished The Devil Wears Prada. From 3 to 4 PM awaited being cleared from the standby list to board the flight. From 11AM to 1PM travel by car with the Mister to Hartsfield Jackson International Airport. Between the hours of 9AM to 11AM, I packed my suitcase as I tried to decide if I would actually follow through with joining the Mister on his business trip. Who decides to fly internationally with less than three hours to prepare? Apparently someone who doesn’t want to spend three days alone with two cats.

Saturday evening, we drove home from the Smokey Mountains after a post-6-mile-hike beer and hamburger. At 7PM, we poked fun at the ostentatiousness of Pigeon Forge (Think Las Vegas with Miniature Golf, Fudge kitchens, and Jesus, instead of gambling, drinking, and legalized prostitution. Although on some level, those are really the same things.)

At 3PM, we admired the view from The Jumpoff, an overlook on the Boulevard Trail, that branches off the Appalachian Trail. This brief segment of the Appalachian Trail was moderate and ran mostly along the ridge. At 9AM we finished breakfast before parking at the trailhead.

Friday evening, we fell asleep in the hotel before the respectable hour of 10PM. Sometimes your body feels so fucking old, while your inner ten year old simultaneously plots skinny dipping in the hotel pool. At 8:30PM, we enjoyed ribs at a favorite restaurant, post-hike post-strenuous-walk to Grotto Falls.

At 7PM, we spotted a black bear and two cubs when we were leaving the trailhead. At 6PM, the Mister and passed behind the falls for a closer look. At 5PM, we drove around the park looking for the trailhead. Between 1 and 3PM, we walked around Gatlinburg proper in search of hiking shoes for the Mister, completely fascinated by what is quite possibly the last wasp stronghold in the greater south. The lack of diversity left me feeling strangely uncomfortable. At 8AM, the Mister said, “Do want to hike the Smokies?”