shaver

Tyla’s off seeing more Bostonian wonders, and I’m hacking on tinderbox stuff, which makes for a fine Monday morning, all in all.

Phil — who looked quite sharp in his tux, natch — is off to Denver for some meetings. His car — buy his car, Jacob! — had a flat tire, so we had to put the spare on it before the Blizzards could drive us to a nice Indian dinner. (Phil and I really need to get our own “Where To Eat In <City>” pages up and running, I think.)

I find that I have trouble, on re-reading my diary, figuring out when I’m describing the listed date’s events, and when I’m recalling the previous day’s events on the listed date. Given that a major motivation for this whole thing — other than the discipline training that results from writing (just about) every day — is to aid in my personal recollection of my life, this may be a sign that I need a new system.

Chris is going to drive us to Providence this afternoon for our return flight, and then we’ll probably collapse at home. Travel is fun, but it’s always nice to be back home, where I have clothes and stuff.

Later: Chris is such a great friend. He endured literally two hours of sucky traffic to get us to the Providence airport just barely in time. If the flight hadn’t been delayed, we’d never have made it. It was a great weekend, and part of me wished it wouldn’t end, but it’s also great to be back home. Even if we did have to wait for 45 minutes for our luggage to appear on the carousel.

I’m glad to see that the Penny Arcade guys are enjoying the MP3s I sent them (the Neuromancer ones). I think they’re even legal to distribute, or that’s my dim recollection from when I grabbed them off a web site a few years back.