Report from the soapbox

Or perhaps "the soapy frontier"? Slowly order emerges and spreads. My back is killing me, I have had problems since Copenhagen and dragging my stuff to four different hotels in 10 days, so I can't attack as forcefully as I am used to. I have to work over small, contained areas, and focus on the tasks I can't order the troops to cover, as they demand finesse rather than muscle power.

Throwing away paper is one of those things. Who'd believe the mounts of paper one small family of readers manage to accumulate in - in - in - eeeehhhhhh, I guess I haven't been doing this in months. Not since before the Serious Games Summit. My husband is a sweet and wonderful man, but despite what some think, I didn't marry him for his housekeeping skills, and our offspring (they aren't children any more - I have problems finding a good word now) shows no raw talent or mutant housekeeping genes.

So it's chaos. But chaos is receding, and from where I sit and watch stacks of CDs and heaps of old papers, I can smell the soap. Once I have tamed this mess, it is time for the fun stuff: BAKING! YAY! The gingerbread people are still homeless this year. Actually, they haven't even been born.