Work is busy. I have tours coming out my ears although not, of course, literally ("Tour Lucy's Aural Wonderland! Ear Wax No Extra Charge!"). I'm juggling visits to Australia, New Zealand, Spain, Costa Rica, Italy, France, and New York. I'm also organizing approximately 12 bazillion Hawaiian expeditions. The worst part is keeping the days and nights straight, particularly when they cross the International Dateline a couple of times. The stress is building up. I sit quietly panicking at my desk in between calls. I have developed a stutter.
I have taken to communicating in smouldering looks and meaningful glances in lieu of speaking since my voice is starting to give out ("Eye Rolling No Extra Charge!"). Clients who ask me stupid questions receive sarcastic replies, varying in intensity from mild joshing to commentary on ancestors. On the other hand, I really do deal with a fair number of visitors from other planets. Just yesterday I seriously enraged a secretary by failing to send a fax before finishing the booking. When I tried to explain she went ballistic, and sent my boss a nasty email about my attitude.
Tomorrow will be a better day, though. Tomorrow I take off for Portland, OR ("Freezing Rain No Extra Charge!") and Orycon. I'm looking forward to a long weekend in the convivially demented atmosphere of a science fiction convention. I haven't packed yet, but I've decided on the basic color scheme of the weekend so it should be a matter of gathering all the hunter green and navy items I own and stuffing them in a backpack. I'll take a coat, something I haven't resorted to here yet, because the Pacific Northwest is reliably chilly and damp at this time of year and I don't intend to spend all my time in the hotel. Powell's Bookstore sings a siren song to me.
You may remember my adventure last year. This year, as promised, I have booked a hotel room. I'm sharing it with my pal FarSide, my roomie of last year. Do you know what I'm looking forward to most of all? A good night's sleep in a bed all to myself. No pets snuggling on either side of me pinning me to the bed, or patting me insistently on the nose because they think I should get up. No husband, dear to me though he is, intruding his legs on my side of the bed, or stealing the blankets. My very own bed! What bliss! What joy!
Snoring No Extra Charge.
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