wild blue yonder, and other sensations of lowering doom
Off for a weekend-long SCA event, almost immediately. Either I'm getting too old for this, or I'm still somewhat post-lurgified, but I find my feet rooting themselves more and more firmly to the floor as I dash around preparing, resulting in a sort of reluctant shuffle. I know it'll be a fun weekend with people of whom I am very fond, but there's a substantial chunk of my psyche that wants to be quietly at home, writing things, planting herbs, running up huge dial-up bills and talking to the cats.*
Help! when did I turn into an eccentric spinister granny? memo to self: next time, just say "no" to the Granny Weatherwax.
See y'all later.
* Oh, yes, and catching up on the huge pile of marking I didn't do last weekend owing to being a temporary plague-pit lacking both energy and brain.
p.s. In my absence, stock up. (This is cute, if curiously pointless).
Help! when did I turn into an eccentric spinister granny? memo to self: next time, just say "no" to the Granny Weatherwax.
See y'all later.
* Oh, yes, and catching up on the huge pile of marking I didn't do last weekend owing to being a temporary plague-pit lacking both energy and brain.
p.s. In my absence, stock up. (This is cute, if curiously pointless).