[The setting: Wilmington, NC. The couple has already done grocery shopping for the day’s relocation to an Airbnb, from this hotel: they’ve picked up milk and creamer, and kept it in the refrigerator overnight; ditto bottles of water and soda, a small bottle of vinegar to be used for mysterious laundry purposes (Hers), and so on. He has already filled His insulated water bottle, the previous night, and as they prepare to move their luggage down to the lobby He takes a first generous swig from it.]

He: Gaaaaaah! What the living hell did I just drink a mouthful of?!?

[He opens the water bottle, takes a whiff, gags and sputters. He checks the refrigerated plastic bottle from which He filled His own metal one.]

He: Jeezus Chr—! Why the hell was the bottle of vinegar in the refrigerator?!?

[He rushes to the bathroom sink, metal water bottle in hand. He dumps its remaining contents into the sink, continues coughing and retching, washing His mouth out with tap water.]

She (from other room): What are you doing?!?

He (spitting and coughing): I’m dumping the rest of this sh!t into the sink!

She: You’re dumping out all that vinegar? I need that vinegar for washing my clothes!

[He stares at His reflection in the bathroom mirror. His eyes are tearing and bloodshot. His tongue feels corrugated. His throat burns like that time when He was a kid and clumsily tried siphoning gasoline from a canister for use in a go-cart, and the fuel ran down His esophagus.]

He: I just drank vinegar, and laundry is what you’re worried about?!?

She (calling out his name): You don’t understand! I needed that vinegar for my clothes! And that little bottle was the perfect size for a trip — I’ve never seen vinegar in such a small bottle! Now we have to go back to that store for more!

[He fumbles about for a breath strip, for a second and a third breath strip. He swallows, downs a fourth breath strip. His forehead is beaded with sweat. His eyebrows will probably return to their normal altitude by evening. His throat will burn for a couple days, and He will be awash for that long in inescapable olfactory memories of dyeing Easter eggs.]

He (weakly): Okay, okay… Let me go down to the lobby for a luggage cart. Then I’ll get the car, and then we can go the store for more vinegar and then we can do whatever until it’s time to check in at the Airbnb.

She: I just really can’t believe you drank my vinegar! Jeezus!

Well, I’ve gotta say: Wilmington, North Carolina — based on the evidence of exactly one day — has done a respectable job convincing us of its livability.

Mind you, we haven’t yet sampled much of “the Wilmington experience.” We had to check out of our one-night hotel by 11:00, and couldn’t check into our three-night Airbnb until 4:00 PM. We filled the time by:

• Looking for a good breakfast place. First choice didn’t work out: closed. (Technically not CLOSED-closed; they just had a hand-lettered sign on the locked front door saying something like “That’s all for today.”) Second choice, though, was very, very nice. The Missus went in while I figured out how to feed the parking meter without cash, and by the time I got there she already had some kind of drink with, hmm, looked like tomato juice, and was that a stalk of celery? and was that swirls of Worcestershire sauce? and black pepper??? Good food, good atmosphere, good service. They also seem very good-music-focused — another plus! Posters on the wall (and some T-shirts for sale) featured Thelonius Monk, David Bowie, Miles Davis, and probably a half-dozen other performers from the last 75 years or so.
• Conveniently, the restaurant was located in a retail complex called The Cotton Exchange. I say “conveniently” because this was also one of the places we wanted to check out while in Wilmington. As the name suggests, back in the 19th century the building(s) in question served as a center of the local cotton industry. Rather than tear down the whole thing and replace it with something shiny but forgettable, local philanthropists chipped in to simply refurbish and convert the interior. It’s a very cunningly arranged warren of little shops, bars, ice cream parlors, more shops, with the corridors going up and down stairs as well as winding around unpredictably.

• 

  After we’d exhausted ourselves (without exhausting the places to visit) in the The Cotton Exchange, and fortified not only by our very nice brunch but also by some — yes! — ice cream, we went out onto Front Street to return to the car, making only a couple more detours into stores whose interiors seemed too inviting to pass up. It was hard to miss one obvious point: the arts have a pretty solid footing in Wilmington. (See photo at right.)
• When we left downtown, it was still a little too early to check in, so we headed for a really nice local supermarket, called Harris-Teeter. The plan was to pick up some basic supplies for the next few days, especially considering that these are “extended” stays of 3-4 days each. (The Missus wants to be able to cook a bit, for instance.)

Finally, we got to the Airbnb where we’d spend the next three nights: a little bungalow called “the Perry Cottage” (named after the street it’s located on). If I get a chance, I’ll post some more photos of it later.

For now, I’ll say that we’re looking forward to our plans for today — i.e., doing absolutely nothing.