I hate the hours before I have to fly somewhere--today to Chicago. I keep an eye on the weather (hot and muggy today, with newly posted tornado watches), and I find myself making telephone calls--rsvp-ing for my daughter to a Saturday birthday party, scheduling doctors' appointments, scheduling a tree inspection for the yard. It's like on one hand I have some idle time on my hands, on the other I want to have these things lined up as a kind of morbid insurance policy--see, I'll be home in a few days, here to keep these appointments and arrangements.
Work has been intense, new responsibilities and politics involved in advocating for myself and my staff. Now I'm off to some work meetings. Three packed days and then home for the weekend. I feel this reluctance to write about what I do. There's no mystery, really. But I can't at this point bring myself to reveal that much specifically.
Here's to safe flying!