I move tomorrow. I'm hopeful. And horrified. This move was either a really good decision or my most stoopid yet. Grad school, get in line.
Internet service will more than likely be at an internet cafe til next week or so. I have an appointment for installation for tomorrow but I hear the hooves of Murphy and his mighty band of Laws upon the cobblestones, so I'm not counting on much of anything.
You may or may not have read my 'About' Page here. If you have, you know that I have moved some 80+ times in my life. At this point I'm pretty much of a packing expert, packing in an orderly, labeled fashion, beginning three or four weeks ahead of time, knowing to empty my fridge days in advance, to organize the hanging clothes so that they remain on their hangers as they go in the boxes so that all that has to be done on the other side is a brisk snap before rehanging. This go around, though, I've added in a new technique. It's called 'Throw Sh*t in Boxes', with each box a moving poopoo platter of life paraphernalia to be opened with surprise and shock. Because, really, in scheme of things, who gives a sh*t?
And so I leave you with this fond Smell Ya Later. Thanks for tuning in for this most outrageous NaBloPoMo in which my id debuted in ways that caused even my eyes to roll or at least blink really, really fast. Thanks for the kind words. Thanks for not ramming advice down my gullet, even as I have made oh so many deeply unfortunate decisions this month. Thanks for the laughs. They were most certainly needed and appreciated.
Be well. Be good to yourself. Please join me as I drink a margarita and toast to the Almighty Yes that has such a twisted sense of humor, brings us all such a stunning array of life choices, and who when given the OK Go signal, always, always takes us on a wild, wild ride . . .