“I just got hit by a wave of sleepy.”
“Huh. I’m scary hyperactive.”
– J. and C.
Today is J.’s last day at work.
This weekend is our last together in our first flat.
Four days left until we fly back to the East Coast.
Nine days until we’re in London.
Things to do: legion.
Gloom and sulking tendencies: alive and well.
However, a few phone calls with friends shows that they are going through their own sloughs and confirms that mine aren’t really that bad, just damned inconvenient. I have not had a child I was babysitting urinate all over a several-thousand dollar harp in addition to having seizures. No kids have conducted a drug deal in front of me resulting in arrest. And good grief, Venice, you’re still laughing, smiling and going to work? You’re a champ.
Packing commences this weekend. Gah.