Oh, darlings - I've been traveling again, and I'm not happy. Forced across seven times zones and three flights covering some twenty-five hours, all for a business conference that will last three days and then send me hurtling home again. Isn't this the kind of thing that videoconferencing was supposed to solve?
The exquisite horrors of international travel are too well known to complain too much about here, but really. I mean. You find yourself trying to induce deep-vein thrombosis just in hopes of passing out to make the time go faster. The only bright spot was having acquired, bless you i-Tunes, the new David Sedaris to listen to, although that certainly was a mixed blessing for my very patient seat-mates, who had to put up with my ill-concealed chortling.
Having arrived over the weekend, at least I've had a day to decompress, a little sleep, and a very festive evening with lifelong pal Miss Rheba. We've reached the stage, having been bosom buddies for thirty-odd years, at which together we can sit around for hours comparing the trials of middle age and consider the conversation as scintillating as it was when we were aspiring Algonquinites and far more self-consciously clever.
But now I have go put on a necktie and be Very Solemn for a while. No wonder I'm twitchy.