Except I wasn't at the beach. I was sitting in a classroom at UCSD, critiquing stories with the rest of my Clarion class, under the wise and benevolent aegis of Kelly Link.
"They make you go to class on the holiday?" Mom asked after I explained that my phone had been turned off and so I hadn't known about the seven voice mails. I hadn't really thought about it as being made to do anything. It was what I wanted to be doing.
And yes, I wrote today.