In Over My Head

The planning is complete. We're driving to Beaumont tomorrow; and that which we've forgotten, that which has fallen through the cracks, and that which will spontaneously go wrong will just have to sort itself out without any further help from me. We're done!

Well, not really. We'll be right there with pages of emergency contact information, backup plans, and Eisenhower-era CB radios in hand to fix whatever needs to be fixed if and when it breaks. Within reason. I hope none of our conference attendees suddenly die of, oh I don't know, malaria? Or perhaps alligator bites. There is not a plan for this.

A barbarian invasion would also catch us off guard.

Yesterday at lunch I went walking with Ernest, who still - amazingly - works in my old department. That poor man! And as we were strolling along the hike-and-bike, a rowing crew on the lake glided rapidly past, a drummer beating time for the oarsmen.

Ernest and I glanced at one another. "Vikings!" we chorused. "RUN!!!"

The only thing left to do is buy a couple of outfits for the conference - all of us on the planning committee dress alike, so that the attendees can spot us easily. So that's on my agenda for today. Button-down shirts and trousers - boring clothes.

With luck, I will return from Beaumont unpillaged.