I went to San Diego for a tax conference a week ago Friday. While there, I spoke to a client who informed me that he needed me to fly to Philadelphia for work. So I booked a flight leaving the following Monday. Sunday, I flew back to Northern California, and swapped out one set of Armani Armor for another.
Monday morning saw me at San Jose airport, flying to Philadelphia. Met the client en route (he'd been meeting with manufacturers in Southern California that morning), and we sat on the plane discussing the deal we were going to negotiate. Major parts of the deal got worked out, and I stayed on to document it, while the client went on to talk to finance people in New York.
Wednesday night was Child the Younger's birthday. One of the things she'd requested for her birthday was to come out to California for the weekend. So Thursday, we flew together back to San Jose. We spent the weekend watching DVDs of one of our favorite TV shows, seeing family, and generally spending time like we so rarely get to do. Last night, we stayed at my parents' house in the North Bay, then headed this morning to the airport.
Every time I put them on a plane to go back to their mother's house, I feel like I lost.
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