All over my conference clothes. Eek!
Actually, she didn’t. She can’t give birth, because she’s not pregnant. She can’t get pregnant, because she’s fixed. But here I am, doing last minute conference preparation and shopping, a task that quite frankly bores me out of my mind. I am so not a shopper. I know it goes against the Estrogen Pledge, but there you have it. However, I can’t show up at the RWA National Conference next week naked, so shop and prepare I must.
So I’m going through old conference clothes searching vainly for Stuff That Fits, and it makes perfect sense to pile all the Good To Go conference clothes on my bedroom floor beside my nightstand—a constant reminder that it’s not enough to prepare the stuff for conference, I must also pack it. Except, the cat normally sleeps under the side table near the nightstand, and she leaves quite a mess of hair on her blankets, too. Wonder if she decides to start sleeping on my Pile? Wonder if she coughs up a hairball on my Pile? Wonder if she decides it’s a litter box? What if, if she were pregnant, she decided it would be a marvy-lous spot to give birth?
This is why a writer should never be kept from her WIPs. I don’t know about you, but one day without writing whilst doing something braindead like organizing packing lists is enough to send my muse around the bend.
Agh, I still have business cards to create, pitches to perfect. Why did I leave everything until the last week? Why did I ever think I would thrive on the last minute panic?
Do you love prepping for conferences? Or, like me, does it drive you around the bend?