Safe travels home, Sean. {{Sean}} What everyone else said so well, and which I sum up as: you're a mensch.

DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENA!

Travel-fu, Cashmere!

Safe travels for Sean and Cashmere.

So, I just had a little meltdown. Still in a great deal of pain (it may actually be worse, which the chiro warned). CBD has to deal with his car window today, and I feel terrible about that. Then the evil Pumpkin ate one of my favorite shoes. Apparently that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

vw, I hope the pain gets better soon. Work on that, and let the other things go. They are irritating, but the stress won't help your pain. I'm sure that CBD wouldn't trade his TomTom for you, and that Pumpkin enjoyed your shoe. Er. Maybe that last isn't so comforting. ((vw))

CBD doesn't seem overly upset about the TomTom and car. I'm irritated about all that because I've gone on and on about how safe and wonderful this neighborhood is. When I told that to him last night he said, "It is a safe neighborhood except for when your boyfriend is a dork enough to leave the TomTom out in plain sight."

And the shoe thing annoys me because it's from a fairly new (and expensive) pair of shoes. That I love. Oh, well. You're right. I'm just frustrated and in pain. And whiny, apparently!

Morning all-- I finally feel, even though I'm still tired-- as if I'm back on East Coast time. Well, and I've had my two cups of coffee. On the downside, however, I think I'm coming down with a post-conference cold.

With the introvert/extrovert thing I'm sort of a weird amalgam. I'm an introvert in the sense that I like nothing better than being at home, with my stuff and my family and my dogs.

I'm also painfully shy, which tends to come as a shock to people who meet me-- but the thing is, if I "know" you, via online or whatever, I'm good-- or if I'm with someone who knows other people. I have to have that buffer. My idea of a nightmare is to be sent into a room full of people where I, in no way, know anybody, and be told, "Okay, you have to work the room and introduce yourself."

Right. I'll be the one in the corner curled up in the fetal position. It's why I always sucked at going to bars or clubs in college. Gave off that lovely "Come too close and I'll cut your heart out with a spork" vibe.

Because of having to go to conferences for work, I can be the extrovert, but I do have to be able to retreat either by myself or with smaller groups of my tribe periodically. It's why National being in San Francisco was so wonderful-- unlike other cities we've been in, the opportunity to just get out and wander and kind of be a sea, by myself, even among other people, was abundant. Plus-- got to spend time with people who had nothing to do with conference (juliana, jz, javachik, I'm lookin' at y'all)-- also an unexpected treat. Much as it's wonderful to be in a setting where you can talk about your profession and craft so unreservedly, it was lovely to just be a regular person, too.

But yeah, I come home from a conference and all I want to do is curl up in my cave and not emerge for at least a month. Unfortunately, I have to do just that this morning, since we appear to be out of milk. Oy.

Okay, yeah, I've had coffee this morning.

And whiny, apparently!

Not.

Hivemind. What's a noun form that means mortify.

Mortification

Comcast is the anti-Christ, if the anti-Christ were dumb as a box of rocks.

Have a great trip, Cashmere.

I am also introvert. I'm sensing a pattern. Being out among the humans drains me, and I realized long ago that one reason why being with my family is exhausting is that they never leave me alone.

I particularly hate small talk and facing a room full of people I don't know, which is why the idea of networking, which is actually pretty important to my business, makes me want to lie down. Sometimes I get to a networking event and manage to plunge in for a while. Other times, I stand at the door for a few minutes, then turn around and go home.

When I had surgery and chemo, members of my family were quite hurt that I didn't have them come stay with me to "help." I knew I could do cancer or other people, but not both. If my mother came, she'd be the man who came to dinner. The surgeries required someone to be there, and one friend flew in from Florida for one and another drove from Tennessee for the other. These were friends who would be happy reading when I was reading, who wouldn't fuss and who would leave. I am still hugely grateful to them.

Thanks, amych!