After three days of doing relatively little other than office- and house-work, on Friday evening, I flew up to New York City with my former ex-girlfriend L. Despite our mutual desire to avoid anything related to the Republican National Convention or the demonstrations regarding same, we flew to LaGuardia after work on Friday evening, picked up a rental car and drove to Westport, Connecticut as a base from which to launch our assault.
Westport is a quaint little New England beach town on the Long Island Sound. L. owns a house there (which she rents out but we never got to see), and was able to get us a room at the lodge of a local country club. Of course, by the time we arrived at the airport, picked up our rental, and drove to Westport it was almost 11:00 p.m. and way past the time to experience any of the town, other than the tail end of a wedding party at the country club. Our room was at the end of the hallway after a three-floor walkup, but it had a great view of the Sound.
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