No I'm not dead.
Or worse, absconding.
I've just had a terrible case of writer's block--made worse by the fact that since I do write for a living and all, I put in all my energy there--and usually there is some excess energy/creativity that I slough off here, but I seem to have run out of my quota.
So the other day I go into work and check my office mail and I have like five different messages from people I don't know. So I read them and it turns out I'm being sent on a junket.
So hurrah, I think and trot off to find out more details.
The good news: It's Nainital! I'm going to Nainital, which should be at least five degrees cooler than the soup pot (or rasam bowl, if we're being vernacular) that I live in. And the last time I went to Nainital was with a friend and her parents when we were about sixteen and I swear to god we saw this guy who looked exactly, but exactly like Peter Andre. (Hey, he was pretty hot. And Mysterious Girl had just released.)
The bad news: I'm being sent to cover a *gasp* golf tournament. What do I know about golf? Very little, but I suspect I will know more by the end of this weekend. Hell, I once dated a golfer and hung out with his golfer friends, how hard could this be? And I'll carry something to read, for when they're walking the course. or putting, or whichever it is they don't like to be talked to during.
So I leave tomorrow morning and I'm back Sunday evening. Which means I have tomorrow evening to putter around (hey, check out my cool golf pun back there!) Nainital and look for Peter Andre-lookalikes. And candles in the shape of fruits, which my colleague assures me are found plentifully in Nainital and for which I have already taken many orders.
And maybe I'll come back with lots of good stories for you :) Keep fingers crossed!