Getting there...

We leave tomorrow morning. Ahhhh! That is a scream not a sigh of relaxation. I've been cleaning all morning (to the point that if I were a guest I'd laugh into snorting laughter and say -no way those people live here-), packing and wandering the house paraniod that I will find myself in a hotel somewhere saying "I TOTALLY needed that." People like me who are pack rats, and entirely unreasonable when they don't have precisely what they need, precisely when they need it, make horrible packers. if I could zip lock my whole house and put it in the trunk I would.

Mr. Morgan reminds me that there are in fact stores, and places to get needed wares in other cities but I don't believe him. Thus I am hoarding an obnoxious amount of shit into a tiny bag that I heard say "Not fucking gonna happen."

We fought all last night, and I am not sure how this trip will go. I have a giant bag of what I am calling "incidentals" to keep me occupied. Mr. Morgan thinks I talk too much. Um... hi? When did I ever proclaim to be quiet. That man met me on the net by .... you guessed it..... TALKING.

No matter, I have a bag of shit to keep myself quiet or to bash him over the head with. We'll see.
I drop off my dogs 11 am tomorrow morning. Cry! Dogs always have that look of "but.... how come?" when you leave them. I have told them countless times that it's their vacation too! New smells, good eats, people who don't really know your nasty behaviors and tolerate them as cute, that sort of discussion. When we pull away tomorrow all of that will be forgotten and they will consider it as punishment. Oh I hate to leave those babies.

Maybe one more entry before I fly fly away.
-DM