Now, it was a great conference. There were a significant number of knowledgeable speakers and some of them had managed to wrangle out some entertaining power point presentations. However, in order to listen to them speak of their great knowledge and watch their fancy slide transitions, I had to sit, fixed for hours upon end, in the ubiquitous Conference Chair, sardined in next to my neighbours such that even the slightest movement threatened coffees, notetaking and, therefore, my career. Yes, the chairs look nice, but they are, I firmly believe, produced by chiropractors and physiotherapists in search of new clients.
In an effort to ease some comfort into the chairs, one does, of course, try to sit near an aisle, in the front row of a section or in a straight line of sight to the speaker or screen, so as not to twist one’s neck any more than absolutely necessary. All of these positions within the room are conveniently located directly underneath the conference centre’s formidable air conditioning systems.
So, now, not only did my muscles get to shake from being held still for so long, they also got to shake from the icy blast of air that was driving down at me for three days straight.
In response, I shut down on Sunday. I stuck to bed, bath and couch. The cleaning that I had planned, in order to discuss basement construction plans with a fellow (oh, what is he??contractor/cabinet maker/construction guy), did not happen and I’m sure that his foray into our pit-of-despair basement has left him a little shaken too.
Ah, yes. Doesn’t misery just love company.