Home is Where the Heart Attack Starts
One trek through downtown Toronto, one bus ride, one longish airport wait (made shorter by the higher alcohol content of Molson Canadian!), and two quite pleasant flights (see above), and I found myself back in SoCal, where it was a steamy 75 degrees at 10 pm. Today’s high of 95 made it quite clear that I wasn’t in the Great White North anymore. Which, my own enormous wonderful bed aside, was not altogether a good thing.
I spent most of today sorting through the developing crises surrounding weekend after next’s Media Studies conference. All appears to be under control, but only after a full ten hours of non-stop palpitations and breathless sweating of details.
If I ever mention that I’m organizing another conference, would someone… send me a really stern e-mail, or something.
The bottom line of all this racing-heart business is, alas, that I’ve done, seen, read, thought, said, or experienced absolutely Nothing interesting enough to bother writing here today. Either that, or I haven’t been able to sit still long enough to get interested in any of same. Here’s hoping for more, better, soon.
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