BoucherCon 2009, at the starting gate
Drive; wait; fly; wait; fly; drive; wait; check in. Exhaustion, although my West Coast clock insisted it was only four in the afternoon.
The hell with West Coast clocks, I don’t do lagging time zones: it’s seven p.m. and I’ve been on the road for twelve hours, I’m not going to go hang around the bar and see what BoucherCon residents I can scare up. I’m going to help myself to tea and two pots of yogurt from the refrigerator in my floor’s self-help kitchen (which in Sayers talk would be called the Buttery) and check my email and read myself to sleep.
Which I did. And today all looks much better, if not perhaps literally looking better since it’s gray and looks not far from snow outside. However, it’s a change from floods (anyone out there see page 3 of USA today? That’s my ‘hood.) I had breakfast and talked to my daughter in Lisbon through the magic of Skype and washed my hair and am now pulling up my socks to go talk about Sherlock Holmes: today is two panels, two dinners, an hour with the good folk at Mystery Scene magazine, and heaven knows what else.
See you at the far side of a long day!