every martyr in this jungle

I am having my third drink of the night. I can't tell you the last time I went to more than one bar in one night, but this is a press trip and 23-year-olds can be very persuasive. So I sucked it up and walked back out of my hotel room at 11pm even as everything inside me wailed, "I'm 37, please don't make me go to Brooklyn." Except I am neither 37 nor in NYC, but Liz Lemon is my spirit animal. Anyway, it's cool, the kids are fun and downtown Roanoke doesn't suck for a town that once got wiped off the face of the Earth. But I just got an AO3 notification that my favorite story (holla @ wordstrings) has been updated, and we're talking sneak off to a toilet stall at work to take a personal 15 priority story. Is it weird that I'd rather go back to my hotel room and read myself to sleep than... pretty much anything else?