Gahhhh.

Our flight from Chicago was delayed 4 and a half hours. Delayed in the worst way, too -- we boarded at the proper time, and then the delays began. 4 and a half hours sitting on a plane, with the pilot periodically getting on the loudspeaker to say we'd be underway in 15 or 20 minutes. Sigh. There were thunderstorms, lightning, etc. There's always some stupid storm-related drama when we try to return from Wiscon. It'd be nice if the trip home went smoothly just once. It's a crappy way to end a lovely convention weekend, and it happens every year, in some variation.

We were supposed to arrive in San Francisco at 7:30 p.m., which would've given me time to, oh, do some laundry and generally unwind before going back to work tomorrow; instead we touched down at 11:40 p.m., and didn't get our bags until well after midnight. That meant, of course, that we missed the last train to the East Bay, and had to spend about $70 on a cab ride. (All the cheaper transportation options just laughed at us when we called on such short notice -- since probably dozens of other people were calling them for the same reasons). I had a nice wad of cash from chapbook and 'zine sales this morning, but between lunch in Madison, an overpriced airport dinner (yech), and the cab fare, I've only got about $5 of it left now. C'est la vie.

I read Scott Westerfeld's The Last Days (sequel to Peeps) on the plane (while sitting on the runway). It's a fast read, but I didn't like it as much as I did Peeps. Also read Terry Bisson's Numbers Don't Lie (the fix-up of his Wilson Wu stories) and they were awesome, of course.

I should probably get some sleep. Stupid traveling. Glad I'm not going anywhere (by plane, anyway) for the next few months.