It's the first weekend I've been home in three weeks. We did Gaylaxicon in Atlanta, four day convention, two days driving with stock, I was toastmaster, we had a good time but I worked my butt off... or at least knocked it down a size and was just exhausted. We got home at 12:00 Tuesday -or is it Wednesday?  I had just enough time to unpack and repack and take care of everything that had broken while we were gone and then we left for Trek-Con in Tulsa early Friday morning. I was writer guest of honor there and assumed being a writing guest at what is mostly a media con would make me about as welcome as a leper, but they loved me there and I loved them, and again a lot of work but a really good time, too.
          So we got home Sunday night, Monday I unpacked in between the rain and tried to get caught up. You know answer all the calls on the answering machine, and all the e-mails, all the business stuff that won't take care of itself while I'm gone. Tuesday I worked on trying to get caught up, never made it, still haven't because Wednesday I had to go build a closet in my son's house, Thursday I had to build a wall at my parent's house, Friday I went back to my son's house to finish the closet, and Saturday I had to worm all the goats and trim their hooves and try to catch up again. Then today back over to my son's house to put in a window box storage and... do you see a pattern here? Everyone keeps me jumping all the time.
          Somewhere in the cracks in time they leave me I write.