Meanderings: September 12, 1999

Sunday,
September 12, 1999

Home again, home again, jiggedy-jig.

Well, there is stuff strewn from one end of the house to another, the washing machine is chugging away on our dirties, my sleep cycle is so screwed that I know I'm going to be a zombie tomorrow, and this place smells absolutely musty.

And you know what? I feel great. Yeah, we've got a boatload of cleaning to do, and I have to go back to work tomorrow, but I honestly do feel dandy. The Story Dare on SFF.Net starts tomorrow -- complete a story a week for eight weeks -- and I'm plunging ahead on the book to the point where yeah, it may just be done by the end of the month. I think this vacation was exactly the thing we needed -- new places to see, folks to talk to, a little bit of professional interaction at the con, and just a lot of relaxation.

Said relaxation, astoundingly, came on the plane. I can't honestly say I was comfortable, but I did manage to get sleep on not only the cross-country flight, but the transatlantic flight, as well. Add a solid nap this afternoon, and I'm not nearly as wrecked as I thought I would be today. I'm still a little wistful about leaving the States, but I'll deal with it. Don't get me wrong -- Sweden is a lovely country, and we've had a good time here. But I do miss being able to chat with people wherever I go -- I talked to people in stores, in bathrooms, in restaurants, I talked to homeless people in San Francisco (one annoyance -- I bought this beautiful little metal chair made out of a drink can from a softspoken homeless guy sitting on 2nd Street east of Mission in San Francisco. This thing was authentic American folk art -- he had cut strips in the can and twisted the strips into curlicues for the legs, back and pedestal decorations, and put a little purple velvet cushion on it. It was honestly lovely, and if anyone ever passes him again I highly recommend that you stop and buy a chair.

In any case, Lyndon accidentially knocked it to the floor while he was packing Friday night, and didn't have time to pick it up. He thought that I'd find it while packing -- unfortunately, I saw it was gone and assumed that he had packed it in with his stuff. So it's still sitting on the floor of room 507 of the Hotel Beresford -- I may just give them a call tomorrow and see if one of the maids picked it up, and if there's some way I can get it back).

What was I talking about? Oh, yeah -- talking. To everyone, actually. It felt great, and now I'm looking forward to San Diego more than ever. I just have to wait about fifteen months, that's all.

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