J. has a short vacation from school, which happily coincides with our favorite folk music convention, the Ohio Valley Filk Fest. (No, filk isn’t a typo, though I gather it was originally. It’s a general sub-genre of music.) So we are off to Columbus, Ohio as soon as all of us are showered and clothed for travel. We packed last night, so getting out would be easy. J. is so excited that he’s telling everything he encounters that we’re going to a hotel. I do mean everything; his stuffed Garfield, me, each of the fur-people, his trains, even his DVDs. I vetoed a few of the DVDs on the grounds that while they are fascinating to him, they are unlikely to be of any interest to the friends with whom we will be sharing the room. He doesn’t argue when it concerns people outside the family; it’s only if I give him my primary reason – that I want a break from the infinite repeating play loop – that he will beg, plead and otherwise try to wear me down.
And my beloved husband being done, it’s time for me to get on with the next stage of preparation for departure. Whee!!!