I have now met a million and ten people, many of whom I really like a lot. I am already tired and dehydrated and am living in fear of breaking Vermont state liquor law and getting kicked out of the conference (apparently, it only became okay to dance with a beer in your hand last year, not that I would ever be dancing beer or no).
I reached a low point of hatred for the where you from conversation, and then became okay with it again. With two writers' conferences and two family reunions under my belt, I should really be coming out of this summer with a PhD in small talk.
2 comments:
Shouldn't it be a high point of hatred? Not that I'm being picky, just continuing the "small talk"(!!) we started at the family reunion.
Sniff** I suppose it was, unfortunately, "small talk" in terms of quantity, but I can only think of two people who might have asked you where you were from. I guess I shouldn't sniff at you considering how overwhelmed you've been with the army of petite conversation you've had to contend with , but that's what you get for inviting your family to read your blog :)
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