I take back what I said the other day about Grant looking too tired to get through a day on the mesa. He walked in yesterday morning as bright-eyed and chipper as you please, flashed a dazzling smile at Harvey and the cats, and announced that I’d better be ready for a long day, because he was going to wear me out.
(I won’t tell you what my dirty-minded little self conjured up just then. Not that such thinking would do me a bit of good anyway. I have resigned myself to the fact that I am dating the most morally upstanding — or, at least, the most image-conscious — man in the state of New Mexico, and unless he suddenly decides he’d like to flip a property and score a break on his car insurance in exchange for tying himself to a neurotic motel owner for the rest of his life, one little corner of Coldwater is going to be in the middle of an extended drought for a long time, no matter how the monsoons may rage outside. *Sigh*)
Anyway, we spent most of yesterday morning exploring the mesa. True to his word, Grant wore me out with rock-climbing and off-trail hiking. I could have done without the tarantulas and snakes, but it was cool to explore parts of Sangre Mesa that I’d never seen before.
By the time we got back, Grant was still going strong, but I was so tired that he wound up helping me with the laundry and sticking around all evening to check in late guests. I’m not sure what time he left. I fell asleep on the couch and only vaguely remember him picking me up and carrying me (!) to my room, mumbling something about turning on the “NO VACANCY” sign and locking up on his way out.
I don’t know what kind of magic is out there on that mesa, but it was wonderful to have Grant back to normal this weekend. We spent this afternoon watching the Cubs give Lou Piniella what has to be the worst send-off in the history of baseball, then took Joey down to Scout’s Yellow Snow for a jumbo shaved ice. We’re just sitting around the lobby now, killing time and trying to decide whether we’re hungry enough to bother making dinner.