I don’t know if it’s stupidity or a renewed sense of “helping people is important, dammit” but after a 34-hour trip from Doha to Danforth and a shortish but passionate love affair with my bed, I made questionable decision #1 (I answered the phone) and followed it almost immediately by QD #2 (I agreed to help Travis move).

This actually worked out okay in that it helped marshall my thoughts a bit.  Both Trav and Alan (intrepid partner in questionable decision-making) are pooh-poohers of all that is social media so when they asked about my trip, they were working from the blankest of slates.

“What’s the Middle East like?” asked Alan.  “And is that how you pronounce ‘Qatar’?”

**SIDE NOTE: Ever since I did/did not date that Navy fellow, who was frequently shipped off to Qatar in between his deployments to Rivalries and OPT, where he flexed obnoxiously while wearing closed-toe…