So I’m on the road again, in NYC, and I’m desperately trying to get done at least a small fraction of the stuff that has to be completed by a week from Tuesday. In the meantime, I’m completely exhausted from all the travel–my body clock is pretty screwed up from having jumped from EDT to PDT for two days, before jumping right back again–and so am trying to get a bit of rest around the edges, where I can.
The result is that I haven’t contacted any of the folks I ought to have gotten ahold of upon coming to town. I’ve spent some time with my sister, which has been great, but I just haven’t been able to do anything else, partially because I’ve been working, and partially because I’ve been so tired.
And the result of that, of course, is guilt. Massive guilt. Guilt disproportional to the offense, and thus, alongside that, a dread of picking up the phone to explain.
So, hoping to avoid a guilt death-spiral, I thought I’d send a little message to the folks I ought to have gotten ahold of here: I’m sorry. I’ll hope to touch base with you next time out. And I’ll hope that the next time out doesn’t come at the tail end of three weeks of traveling, and one week before several key deadlines.