Worked all day. Omaha Beach Party this evening, with , , , Mrs. , M— and T—. That was very nice. By the time I got from the restaurant to the room I’d managed to lose one glove (in freezing weather, where you’d think I’d notice) and lock myself out of my room, twice (it’s more complicated than that, but I am too tired to explain and the net effect was the same).
The cold seems to be diminishing, so with luck I’ll sleep decently prior to cracking my happy self out of bed at a Very Ridiculous Hour to fly home. The weekend seems to be made for laying low and keeping warm, in the interests of not inducing a return of the cold, but of course the heat at Nuevo Rancho Lake is on the blink. Luckily I made a smart and have the heating guy coming at 2 tomorrow. Let’s hope my plane is not late.
Writing work for tomorrow: Potlatch workshop stories, Endurance synopsis, a blurb for ‘s excellent debut novel Passion Play, and answering some interview questions.
Writing work for tonight: to sleep, perchance to dream.
Play nice, do good, I’ll see some, all or none of you back in Portland.