Okay, sorry about that. I did not tell you about our moving plans; I thought I had but I was wrong. The deal is this: We're moving in mid-December, because moving during good weather isn't exciting enough for us. Bored with the regular-strength hell of moving without consideration to driving conditions, we want the extra-strength double-whammy of icy roads and possible blizzards. We are Extreme Movers and we will take on all challengers!* Where we're moving hasn't been totally nailed down yet. We'd like to move to Ellensburg, WA (so Francisco can do the teaching program at Central Washington University) but it's possible we'll move to Bellingham, WA, instead, and he'd do the teaching program at Western Washington University. I think it's at least a 90% chance that we'll move to Ellensburg; that area appeals to us quite a lot. I wish there was some way to get ourselves moved out there before the end of summer so that Boy could start high school there, because I would rather not uproot him mid-year, but he's okay with the idea, and I'm glad because I really don't think it's even possible to move before the end of summer. Not only would Francisco need to finish his dissertation, but we also have a number of things we need to do to the house to get it ready, and with me working full-time and him working damn near full-time on his dissertation, it isn't going to work out. So, December, and needless to say, I can hardly wait to write my resignation letter. It'll probably clock in around 7 pages. I've already started composing the letter that will be emailed out to my students when I leave, and I don't mind telling you, it's going to be a laugh riot.
This morning I did a "reply to all" email to inform my coworkers that the latest cancer kid email (forwarded by one coworker) is a hoax, but apparently she had sent her email to a whole crapload of people (two entire server lists--not sure if she meant to) so who knows how many thousands of people I accidentally annoyed this morning? Awesome! Potential Embarrassment Level: Yellow to Orange.
I haven't been following the Runaway Bride saga closely, but I think I'm up on all the salient points. Do you think she and her fiance will get married now? I've read statements from family members who proclaim they will, but I think they're being a touch optimistic. Would you marry a woman who disappeared without a word before your wedding, leaving you the prime suspect in her murder? I wouldn't, and not just because the fundamentalists have mobilized to prevent such same-sex unions. Who's to say she wouldn't someday up and run off again, leaving 4 hungry children and a crop in the field? [Bonus points for IDing the song that's from.] I don't think she should get prison time, though--she'll be punished enough by being called The Runaway Bride for the rest of her life. If I were her I'd change my name, dye my hair, and move to a big city for awhile.
It's been awhile since I talked about Princess, but that's because his people seem to have forbidden him to come over. I've seen him elsewhere in the neighborhood, but he won't come to our house anymore. He hasn't been over since his big fight with the large grey cat. I tried to reason with him last weekend when we saw him as we were driving into the cul-de-sac, but as it turned out, one of his people watched me talking to him and was giving us a mean, slitty-eyed scowl. I figure after that Princess got another warning about coming to see us, because why else would he avoid us? We have treats!
Need to go home soon, though I have shamefully accomplished next to nothing today--tomorrow needs to be a major ass-kicking work day, for sure. Did I tell you how, for the past month, Francisco has been making me back into the driveway when I park the car? His point (which is somewhat valid) is that, for some reason, when it rains, if the car is parked nose-down in the driveway (it's on a slope), water leaks into the car, but it doesn't if it's parked butt-first. When he instituted this parking rule, I could not back the car into the driveway for shit. Now? I'm a backing into the driveway master. Damn you, Francisco, for making me improve my backing-up skills. He is sneaky.
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