Enthusiasm for life on the road is seriously flagging at this point. My husband has issued a formal protest, and what's perhaps worse, I've missed the harvest of our most spectacular tomato.
It's time to go home already, but not before I do this freaky show all over again tonight. Maybe it's worse because the tone of this convention is, well, different to say the least.
It's time to trade this:
for this.
T minus 36 hours.
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