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Conveniently, I finished with the assignment for work yesterday. Inconveniently, this means I'm as good as unemployed for a while now. Still, it meant I could drive down to the aiport in Hartford -- actually Windsor Locks -- and pick up lsanderson for Not-a-Worldcon in Wales, Massachusetts. Larry -- who I might or might not have met before -- had had a good flight, complete with a landing, even though Northwest's mechanics are still off the job for union-related reasons (duh, I can't remember if it's a strike or a lockout), and had apparently just gotten his luggage when I waltzed in late. I mean, exactly on time. We proceeded to my residence to wait for gerisullivan, pnh and tnh, who were eleven exits behind us when they called.

I was partway through showing lsanderson the basement ("This is the floor. It's made of cement. Pretty cool, huh?") when the doorbell rang, so I sprang up the steps with the maniacal strength of one who never hears his own doorbell except when Sarah's leaning on it and let our guests in. "Welcome to the Five of Diamonds," I said, while they were still on the porch and could count the diamond-shaped cutouts in the stucco for themselves. Then I rebooted the tour and showed folks what was what. ("These are more cardboard boxes.") pnh, meanwhile, stayed in the den, checking out the lame built-in sounds on my piano, which will be remedied when I find the box that contains my adjunct keyboard that has the real good sounds on it. And the cords. There was more musical mayhem later when I showed everybody my Donkey Konga game.

Then they all started looking at their watches and muttering something about having to wash their hair, so we reluctantly tore ourselves away from the tour, which was on the point of reaching the attic. ("When we get this air-conditioned, I think we'll put more boxes up here.") Then I actually went out of the house again, had lunch at the Celery Stalk, looked at the used book store nearby, and went out for some groceries. Cathy's sick today, so I'm doing my best to keep Sarah entertained and fed and downstairs.

More on this thrilling story as developments warrant. This just in: Sarah says she's going to do Rubber Ducky now. She's sitting there, banging away, singing her version of the lyrics, and turning pages in my book, which is strictly forbidden. Man, what a kid.

ps: Since I originally drafted this, Sarah has gone to bed. I told her the story of Goldilocks, which she asked to hear again. And again. The third time through, I was falling asleep as I told the story. I would wake up still talking and join myself in progress.
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