It’s time to stop anticipating the event, quit daydreaming of the blissful quiet and uninterrupted hours of restful sleep awaiting me, and get down to brass tacks: the packing and hauling. And that will be a snap, if not a pleasure. You see, I’ve been off-loading and downsizing like a maniac in preparation. If I absolutely had to, I could be out of here in three hours. Four, tops.
But since there’s no need to rush I’ll take my sweet time and savor the experience. Departure is such a lovely word when you stop to think about it. So I will, I’ll think about it, which won’t leave much time for the upkeep and servicing of the whirly girl. Oh, I’ll still be the whirly girl — and proud of it — I’ll just be on light duty for a week or two.
I’ve gathered a nice selection of jokes, fun images, humorous anecdotes, some entertaining re-blogs in case of emergency (my money’s on falling down an elevator shaft), stuff to keep things interesting. Ha, keep? I wish. Anyway, you may not even notice I’m gone. I will, though. I’ll notice the Hell out of it. No more days trapped under a huge, stampeding buffalo. No more long nights of caterwauling ceiling joists and bed springs. Not for me. I. Am. Out of here.
Well, soon, anyway. Adios, muchachos.
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