I committed hubris yesterday when I was gloating about getting what I want at work. I asked not to travel, I got it, no bad consequences. Then I bragged about it on the blog.

This angered the god of business travel. So this morning I found out that I’m being sent to civil war-torn Venezuela, in ten days. Venezuela means not coming back for the weekends to see my friends, parents and beau. Venezuela means no swing dancing. It means spending the weekend in a security compound.

It’s not being chained to a rock to be prey to a sea monster, but it’s divine retribution nonetheless.