Or maybe you're not wondering and I've just got a bloated sense of self-importance.
Either way, the reason behind the lack of blog posts this week is that I've been swamped at work with committee work. We're hosting our "first annual literary event" on Saturday. I landed on this committee when I took The Dream Job. My boss thought it would probably be a good idea for The Person Who Buys Adult Fiction to warm a seat on this committee. But like a dope (OK, my ego was stroked), I agreed to moderate the romance panel discussion. So tomorrow it's me, Jennifer Apodaca, Kathryn Jordan and Linda O. Johnston trapped in a room together with the select event attendees who want to hear us blather on.
This was actually fun to prepare for, even if I have had no time to read lately. However I'm also sitting on the sub-committee that's in charge of registration, which meant I spent all day Thursday either alphabetizing something or stuffing the registration packets. That was a little too much like work, and since leaving the branch (and working with the public), I've gotten soft
All that and my regular work - which right now entails me spending money like Paris Hilton on Rodeo Drive. But it will all be over tomorrow, until I get back to work on Monday, sit through a "debriefing" session, and then think about planning for next year.
I think this is what is called Death By Committee.