I am SPENT.
I am sitting in the departure lounge of the Orlando airport, waiting for my flight home.
My mind has turned to mush – overstimulated by a week of talking and listening, sharing and learning.
I can see Mats sitting over at the next gate and yet I can’t summon the energy to walk over and say hi again. Forgive me, Mats.
It is unlikely, at this point, that I can string two coherent sentences together. I’m the one slumped in my seat, eyes glazed over, cursing the person who first decided to put ARMS on all the chairs at the gate so I CAN’T LIE DOWN AND TAKE A NAP.
And life didn’t stop while I was enjoying a week of non-stop geekery. OH no.
While I was gone, the Boy’s car decided to join the Great Junkyard in the Sky, just in time for him to start his new job on Monday.
The Girl’s fall tuition bill is looming.
Too tired to think of any constructive financial alternatives, I’m considering turning to a life of crime. I’m thinking bank robbery or gun running. Or maybe I need a big Ocean’s Eleven-style caper, esp. if I can get George Clooney to opt in.
Where was I?
Oh, right. Tired. SOO tired. Someone wake me when it’s time to board.