So the hard part about promising to blog every. single. day. about what’s best about the day is that one sometimes fails to take into account little things like

a) traveling in places with a work laptop that one feels uncomfortable blogging on; and

b) technological glitches that render one’s bluetooth keyboard incapable of working on WordPress. What the heck is up with that? Have not had the time to figure it out.

So you come home from the successful business trip and figure you’ll post tomorrow, and then tomorrow turns into the day after tomorrow, and pretty soon you’re afraid to log in because it’s just so embarrassing.

One solution might be to drink several glasses of caramel Bailey’s to make the Blog Homecoming a little easier. No comment, but forgive any egregious typing or grammar errors, no?

So, here’s what was best about the last week:

Friday, 1/4/13: I was able to pack my fluffy white bathrobe and still close the luggage. I feel at home with my fluffy bathrobe, which is a bonus when the hotel rooms are all starting to look alike.

Saturday, 1/5/13: The Indianapolis airport is beautiful. It’s even prettier than the picture.

Sunday, 1/6/13: Our booth at the supplier show is beautiful. It works even better than I had hoped, back at the Technology Showcase. We arrived at the hall and saw that we were placed at the hind end of the universe, and we were sad, because we hadn’t volunteered to trash our weekends so we could sit by ourselves. And then the show opened up, and the open bar opened up right next to our booth. Instant Traffic Bonanza!

This is a picture of my implementation co-conspirator, Mike, manning the station.

Monday, 1/7/13: I see so many old friends, and meet so many customers who, up to this moment, have only been voices on the phone. I love doing that, even though I kinda lost my voice and my feet were killing me. We end the supplier show having talked to over 500 people, which will make our jobs that much easier down the line.

Tuesday, 1/8/13: The bad news is, at 7 a.m., I already regret not taking the non-stop flight that would have left Indy at 6 a.m., which is a little early to start regretting your choices. I am standing on a United Express Embraer, mid-aisle and clutching my roll-ey carryon in a long line of people when the attendant shouts at me from the back of the plane. “HON! YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO CHECK THAT BAG.” I tell him I’m happy to do so, but indicate the line of people in front of me, and the line snaking behind me. How, pray tell, shall I accomplish that? Tell me what to do.

“HON! YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO CHECK THAT BAG.” Which is not nearly as helpful as you think it would be. I am confused. Shall I *throw* the bag to the front, over the other pissed-off passengers?

But I am saved by an anonymous knight in shining pleather, who stands up, indicates the last open spot in the bin over his seat at the back of the plane. He manages to crowd past the line of pissed-off passengers, takes my bag, and stows it.

I promise him a kidney, should he ever need one.

At the end of the flight, I’m sitting in my seat waiting for the plane to clear so I can head back to the rear and collect my bag. Who should appear, but Sir Pleather, clutching my bag, because he thoughtfully got it down and brought it to me. I am absolutely certain he does this because I remind him of his mother, but I don’t even care any more.

I would say I love him, but the second-best thing that happened is kind of a regular affair for me.

I’ve been traveling a lot more for work now. The usual drill for my fellow travelers is that they get to the airport, park in the economy lot, and then hop on a shuttle to the terminal. When they land, it’s lather, rinse, repeat.

My dearest husband, Dad, Interrupted, will have none of that. He insists on taking me to the airport at the most ungodly of hours, delivers me to the door, and then lathers, rinses, and repeats me upon my return. All I have to do is stand there waiting at the curb outside Baggage Claim for a really handsome guy to show up, give me a movie-star kiss, and then feed me peeled grapes when I reach the house.

Wednesday, 1/9/13 – Friday, 1/11/13: Frankly, this is a blur. You didn’t see posts on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday because I was in a series of conference calls for most of these days, starting at 7 a.m., which meant I had to be at the office at 6 a.m. to get all the the other stuff done so I could sit on conference calls. And I had to do all that and pack my office up, because we had to move back upstairs into our old offices after a re-model. I guess the best things about these days is that I don’t remember much about them, which is a mercy.

Saturday, 1/12/13: The best thing about today is that my youngest, Son, Interrupted, offered to come with me to unpack my office. I didn’t want to leave it all packed with boxes, and then have to deal with it late Monday morning when I got in from my dentist appointment. So we headed in, and he hung pictures, and crawled under my desk, and in general made good company while I did an annoying task. And then he cheerfully ran errands with me.

Here’s my office, all neat and clean again:

And now we’re up to date, at least with this. And I am on my second glass of Bailey’s. Yeah!

© E. Stocking Evans 2013