Okay, I'm leaving for a sunny, mostly rectangular state tomorrow at the crack of butt o'clock, to attend a reading conference for work. Why do I let people sign me up for this stuff? I hate flying. Everyone always says "You'll be fine," but you know, that's one thing you can say to someone in total confidence, because what am I going to do if we crash, come back and say "I told you so?" Actually, that would be awesome.
People also say not to worry about it, because you could be hit by a bus or die of an aneurysm on the way to the airport, too. But that idea doesn't bother me. It's not the dying I resent, it's the falling.
I know that if my plane goes down because the airline skimped on safety inspections to cut costs, my ghost, fueled by my unquenchable rage, will rise from the burning wreckage and haunt the fuck out of everyone responsible.
So, anyway, if I don't resume blogging at the end of next week, I'm dead. Have a nice day, everyone!