I've been falling asleep on my feet for the last six hours, which was problematic since I had to work, drive home, and try to stay up to avoid succumbing to jetlag. Today was rather long, as it turned out; I got up ridiculously early so that I could leave the house by 6:50, since I wanted to allow myself two hours to get to work for my nine a.m. meeting. But traffic was better than expected, so it only took me an hour and twenty minutes (still a nightmare, but it seems so pleasant in comparison to the greater horrors I've come to expect). So I ate breakfast, went to my meeting, went to my building, sat at my desk for a few blessed minutes, and then spent almost the entirety of the rest of the day in meetings. This is my life, so it's not a surprise, but it's unfortunate since I have a lot of work I should be doing instead of sitting in conference rooms talking about tings.
But I made it home in one piece by around 7:30. Then I seriously considering eating some frozen enchiladas and going to bed, but I rallied and went to Des Amis, where some wine and steak helped fuel some v. important brainstorming for Thorington's book. I read most of a book about the naval battles of the War of 1812 when I was on the plane yesterday (as one does), and it triggered an idea for a privateering subplot that I'm eager to explore. So I brainstormed over several pages of handwritten notes while eating, drinking, and occasionally talking to the staff, most of whom know me and are quite friendly at this point.
But now I'm really desperate for sleep, no matter how much my heart would rather read more about naval history. Yes, I am strange, but you already knew this. Goodnight!
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