Panic
I've been a bit remiss with the blogging recently, as both of you who regularly come here for updates on my life will know. Mostly this is because extreme laziness is my natural state, but it would also be fair to say that I've been a bit busy. And suddenly the time is up.
Tomorrow at lunchtime I have to pack the car with six weeks worth of luggage, three dogs, a cat and Barbara. Before then, the house needs to be given at least a cursory once-over with the vacuum cleaner, posters for the conferences have to be picked up, foreign currency has to be purchased (bahts for our one night in Bangkok - we've already got aussie dollars) and a thousand and one other little things need to be taken care of. Meanwhile I've still got a pile of survey forms as tall a teenager waiting to be input into a very hungry database. That work is meant to be finished by the end of this month, but I'm pretty certain it will still be toddler height by the time I get back. At least it will be paying work...
Meanwhile Sir Benfro weighs heavy on my mind. Whilst getting an agent is not the same as getting a publisher, it is a step in the right direction. The problem is that, whilst books one and two are written, books three and four exist only as the vaguest of outlines in my mind. I'm not even certain that I still like the ending I had planned when first I embarked on the mad quest. One of my tasks over the next six weeks must be to fashion out some kind of plan.
Now, about that packing. Just how few pairs of underpants can I get away with taking?
Tomorrow at lunchtime I have to pack the car with six weeks worth of luggage, three dogs, a cat and Barbara. Before then, the house needs to be given at least a cursory once-over with the vacuum cleaner, posters for the conferences have to be picked up, foreign currency has to be purchased (bahts for our one night in Bangkok - we've already got aussie dollars) and a thousand and one other little things need to be taken care of. Meanwhile I've still got a pile of survey forms as tall a teenager waiting to be input into a very hungry database. That work is meant to be finished by the end of this month, but I'm pretty certain it will still be toddler height by the time I get back. At least it will be paying work...
Meanwhile Sir Benfro weighs heavy on my mind. Whilst getting an agent is not the same as getting a publisher, it is a step in the right direction. The problem is that, whilst books one and two are written, books three and four exist only as the vaguest of outlines in my mind. I'm not even certain that I still like the ending I had planned when first I embarked on the mad quest. One of my tasks over the next six weeks must be to fashion out some kind of plan.
Now, about that packing. Just how few pairs of underpants can I get away with taking?
Comments
As for the underwear? You'll just have to wash them anyway. So don't bring any.