Note: this is being said after a rather late-ish night of geekfesting.

Enter three people into the living room, having left the kitchen after obtaining glasses of water.

Person B on sofa bed, groaning, with arm thrown over eyes: "What time is it?"

Me: "Eight-thirteen."

Person B: "You people are ill! Fuckers! Go back to bed!"

So far, the four of us who are recovered from the living room carnage that is geekfest are huddled in the computer room (the only one without sleeping people), firing out emails and finding out about the state of the rest of the world. To our knowledge, there are only three people still asleep in the house—assuming there aren't any others that we haven't found just yet.

Here's hoping everyone survived. The cats are twitchy, but ok; a couple days of cosseting and petting will make them forget about the nearly-twenty geeks we piled into their living room. The house is still standing (always a bonus) and a quick survey of the kitchen tells me that after a couple of loads of dishes, it will be just fine.

I have no idea what the pictures are going to look like. I'm only a little bit afraid.

I'm still tickled over the framed photography bits that Andy and Heather gave me to say thanks for letting them stay here. Once the hubbub quietens down, I'll get around to hanging it in the guest bedroom with the other bits that I tend to collect on my travels.

If forced to leave a single comment about last night's entertainment, all I will say is this:

"Am definitely still the prettiest. Go me!"