So much has gone down in the last week and my brain is going about seven million miles an hour.
As I write this, I’m on my way home with Will from San Antonio via Atlanta, and while I cannot wait to be home cuddling my furry, angry, little beast, I’m more than a little down about no longer being surrounded by several thousand of the coolest people on the planet.
I am completely exhausted because I was silly and didn’t bother following the five and three portion of the 5-3-1 rule. Sitting in the lobby waiting around for our cab, I figured everything out and realized that I had eight meals in eight days and only averaged four hours a night. Not my best showing, but also not my worst. The lack of sleep is certainly not helping my raw emotional edges.
I’m counting the trip as a success, though I’m not technically sure LoneStarCon was. It wasn’t obviously a dud, but I once again spent enough time running around working that I haven’t decided if the time spent at con as a member not as staff was worth the money that
I Will paid and will hopefully get back.
God, I miss $50 taxis and chain smoking assholes that NYC provides nonstop.