Just the word "conference" gives me chills. Large and windowless rooms with tables covered in white tablecloths, cheap pens and 'informational agendas' at each setting.
And the smiling goon at the door who injects every conferencee when they're not looking with a biological agent that changes the make-up of the brain such that phrases like "evidence-based practices" and "goal-oriented modalities" seem like drops of genius.
Yep, I'm in KC at a conference. It's about drug courts for juveniles and, despite the incessant and infuriating games of buzzword catch, some of it is pretty informative. For example, the myths about drugs testing (do you know how long marijuana takes to clear the system?) and the talks about how to properly use sanctions and incentives to change juvenile behavior.
But it's cold here, and I didn't bring a jacket. Plus, I miss my family, had to watch them in pictures putting up some Christmas decorations and the first opening of the advent calendar.
Or, put another way, the temperature is on a negative-accustomed gradient, I'm non-proactively attired, and my central thumping device is adversely affected by the remote observation of my biologically- and maritally-acquired counterparts erecting seasonal displays of jollity.
On the bright side, my day will terminate with an avionically-assisted reintegration to said familial flock. Marvelous.