Okay, this is getting kind of scary.

Last thing I know, I was getting ready for the Fourth of July weekend, looking forward to three days off. Next thing I know, ten days have sailed by.

They were ten decent days, too. I met my great-nephews for the first time. I slept in. I went out for sushi with most of the family. I went to book club.

I also spent those ten days working my fanny off (figuratively, sadly…my ginormous butt remains large enough to be a pain in the ass but too small to garner Kardashian-style attention) as co-workers departed for vacation and auditors descended on me.

So I didn’t exactly disappear. Lots of people knew where I was. I was sitting in my office banging my head against my desk.

But I wasn’t posting, because I pretty much lost track of the time.

Years ago, when I was a teenager, Mom would follow up with me. She’d keep track of where I was, and want me to call her when I reached my destinations. I’d roll my eyes at her concern and she’d say, “Someday you’ll be lying in a ditch and you’ll be glad that someone is worried about you!”

And so it makes perfect sense that Mom was the only one who sought me out in the drought to make sure I wasn’t, well, lying in a ditch.

Thanks, Mom!

What is the Besst project? 

And why is it called Besst?

© E. Stocking Evans 2014