Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Twenty-four hours to go . . .

and, in the immortal words of the Ramones, I wanna be sedated.

I'm leaving for the conference tomorrow, and the big presentation isn't done yet--but it will be, I hope, unless it's time for a message from the universe.

Hasn't this happened to you? You put in a proposal, are delighted when it's accepted, and plan it in a general way for a few months. Then you look at what you actually promised, and you've said you'd do everything short of a bagpipe fanfarade and a one-woman re-enactment of the siege of Troy.

Yeah, me too.

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