I slept well enough in 1804, although it wasn't really good sleep without my nose hose. I'd managed to wash out my clothes well enough so they didn't feel completely grotty, and by the time I finished my shower I felt sorta kinda human again.
Monday morning the first priority was clearing all the stuff out of the AD party room. There was a tonload of pop and munchies left over, more than were going to fit in the Sportage. So I called phoenixalpha and had her rouse Scott so he could put on his Logistics hat and haul all this stuff over to the storage locker for disposition at Saturday's meeting. This he presently did, although I think we may have left the case of pocky behind. After loading up Scott's van, I headed back to the consuite to help pack up. That was a long, grueling and thankless job, made worse by the stench of Exploding Baby Anal Blast in 215 that not even The Mighty Healing Power Of FebrezeTM could suppress. Oh, man. People would come in to grab a cup of chocolate milk, start to drink, then stop and flee the Awful Stench. I think beating the responsible (sic) parent on the kidneys with sharp spiny sticks might not be enough punishment.
You know, I don't mind people bringing their children to conventions so long as the children can either 1) look after themselves because they're teenagers and their parents have raised them to be self-reliant, polite and (mostly) thoughtful fans or 2) be close enough to the parents so the parents can exercise effective supervision. This makes children a positive contribution to the convention instead of a drag on other peoples' fun time. Irresponsible parents who treat the rest of fandom as their babysitters need to be flogged, and not in a fun way. Parents with babies who do not tend to basic sanitary needs of their children need to be thrown out into the parking lot (preferably from the second floor) until they learn that nobody else wants to smell their child's shit. I've raised two kids myself and done plenty of diaper changes, and it's Not Fun. It is nothing I would ever impose on other people.
Volunteering at a convention, especially in the con suite where you get to experience first hand just how lazy and piggish your fellow fans are, is hard enough. For God's sake, keep your kids the hell out of the food serving areas if they aren't housebroken! Especially if you can't be bothered to change their diapers when they need changing - and that time is NOT when they reach the saturation point!
Stench and all, we managed to dispose of most of the excess food - we sent more than 50 gallons of milk and 25 gallons of OJ to the Salvation Army's Harbor Light mission, because we couldn't find anyone else willing to take it, and a lot of the remaining pasta salad, soup, bread and veggies went home with people who wandered by and couldn't run away fast enough. ^^ We also managed to get most of the non-edible stuff out and into storage at the office or the pods, though we were a little late with some stuff, and so I am temporary guardian of scrubby sponges and one fo the Mobile CONsuite trays.
Apparently petsnakereggie hasn't decided yet who's going to run CONsuite next year now that thaadd is moving on to Programming, where I'm sure she'll do a kick-ass job and be able to spend more time actually enjoying the awesome weekend that is CVG. I understand the current contenders are EV and the Goon Squad (Bestest Punks Evah!), the Hildebrand family who in other years ran the amazing Prancing Pony room party, and Roadkill, whose main claim to being qualified is that he's run the consuite at Omegacon. I'm pulling for EV and the Goons, mainly out of feudal loyalty, but I think the Hildebrands would also do a good job from what I've been told about them. Last I heard, petsnakereggie was leaning toward having all three groups work together (i.e. not making a decision), which is of course his prerogative, but I'm a little skeptical of that idea's chances for success. Guess we'll see...it's his call, and I'm just a lowly volunteer in the slop trough of fandom. ^^
Called in sick on account of having no clean clothes, only four hours of sleep, and a hole in the bottom of my right foot that really ought to be looked at. I know I'll catch some crap for this tomorrow, but I'm still tired enough that I just don't care right now. Off to shower, pay the rent, get the foot looked at, and carry on.