I continue to have motivational issues. Tales of my trip will be forthcoming, just as soon as I wash the horror off. Three days in the constant company of Farmer H is not something I would wish on my worst enemy. Except maybe Arch Nemesis.
To prepare for such a stint, one must handcuff oneself to a petulant toddler who has gone 15 hours without a nap or snack, a toddler who must be kept quiet as a matter of life and death, while balancing the both of you on a unicycle, on a six-inch ledge near the top of the Empire State Building, in 70-mph Chicago-style winds, while juggling 13 rare Dodo eggs, reciting the Preamble to the U.S. Constitution. In Arabic.
It is not for the faint of heart.