Wednesday, April 30, 2008


These are the kinds of thoughts that underline why I should not be awake this early in the morning.

Look at him. He's got his hand down his pants like he's digging for a surprise prize. 'Hey, look! A secret decoder penis! Now I can send messages to my friends and no one will know what we're talking about!'

Last Minute

5:34 am is very early in the morning for me. This is my last morning in this house. The cats are nervous and determined that something awful is going to happen.

I have no particular memories of "last nights" in any previous houses, which strikes me as unusual considering I seem to make a big deal about symbolic moments. My move to this house, for instance, from the house where I lived with my dad happened so gradually and over such a long period that there was no particular "last night" -- I was already practically living here when we married, so moving my few pieces of furniture up seemed like a formality. Leaving my stepfather's house to live with my dad was a sudden thing -- Dad showed up with a truck, we loaded it, and I left. I barely remember the details. Previous to that, I was a child and although we moved to four different places, I barely remember any of it. One day I woke up somewhere and the next I was somewhere else.

So I'm feeling a little artificial making a fuss over this "last night", except that it keeps occurring to me -- last time I will make the through-the-dark trip to the toilet, last time I will watch these particular shadows over the ceiling, last time I will hear these noises -- that sort of thing. Some little drama director in my head is making these things significant when they were not significant to me before.

Perhaps it is that I am now more aware of endings and beginnings. The moments and boundaries that separate this part of a life from that part have significance mostly because I notice them. This is over. That begins. It might be the same awareness that comes to most of us as we age, when the endless time of childhood -- school days that lasted centuries until the bell rang, time divided up between Easter and birthday and Christmas -- gives way to the too short time of being an adult, when Easters and birthdays and Christmases seem to come rapid fire and we can't believe it's already spring, it's already summer, it's already a new year.

One more day of heavy duty packing to do. Stuff seems to squeeze from the pores of the house and line up, like desperate refugees clamoring for a place on the last airplane. We are jettisoning some -- the workbench will stay behind, as will the narrow cabinet where we store paints and such. We probably should have purged more deeply much earlier, but uncertainty made us unwilling. My piano is finally packed, but chances of it having a place in the new house are slim. I'd hoped to take lessons again. That seems unlikely now.

We trade one future for another, in between the last minutes we notice and those we don't.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Car Conversation

(While driving through Atlanta today)

Me: Hey, look. The Cure is playing here in June.

Him: The Cure? Are they particularly cool?

Me: Kinda. Proto-emo band.

Him: You mean, if you squeezed them down, you'd have condensed emo?

Me: Cream of emo soup.

Round Trip

I flew to Greenville on Friday and sat in the airport for 5 hours while The Husband finished up his last lab and class for the semester.

I do this because I love him.

We spent the rest of Friday and all day Saturday running over all the little towns in the area in search of a real mattress and boxspring to replace the rather worn out mattress and boxspring we don't want to move north. We discovered that very few companies still MAKE real mattresses and boxsprings -- everything now is a "foundation" with a "foam padded pillow top", which means you can't flip the thing over to even out the wear. We have named our new one The Padded Rock. It does not bounce. It does not jiggle. It does not give an inch. I felt like I was sleeping on a hotel bed (this is not a compliment). The Padded Rock is more stubborn than I am.

So, after this $750 inevitability (the two free pillows did not make it any better) I scooted next door to a little furniture store. You see, the layout of the new master bedroom does not leave a space for the dresser I have (an antique, marble topped marvel that, while not particularly large, simply won't fit anywhere). I needed something tall and thinner to store underwear and the like. What we'd seen through the day ran between $125 (not very tall, either) to $258 (unfinished and decidedly country cornpone deluxe). I figured a glance couldn't hurt.

The store was just a nice warehouse, with furniture lined up in rows or matching groups along the walls and aisles. I saw several beautiful things that I didn't need, couldn't buy, and had no place to put and then -- there it was. My lingerie chest.

Ok, so it's actually a part of a three piece set (the left side). Ok, so it's got a chip/scratch on the front. It was also $45. If you are a furniture snob, you might know about Hooker furniture. I know about Hooker furniture for two reasons -- for years we owned a cherry entertainment center that ended up being a size, shape and layout we couldn't use anymore from Hooker and which I hung on to bitterly until forced to admit the inevitable, and because my mom-in-law used to live next door to and be friends with the company's owners. No kidding, I met them. I was in their house. Mrs. Hooker's closet was a custom built affair she had put in using the THREE DOWNSTAIRS BEDROOMS and a BATHROOM of her very large half of the duplex (Mom's was the other side -- main floor, basement, and a loft. Her main floor was about the size of our house, not including the double deck. I'm sure you're catching on here.) Biggest Closet Ever, and stuffed full. She took us on a tour of it. I was hoping for a guidebook. If I'd known ahead of time (we were just making a friendly visit) I would have taken my camera and maybe a map. HUGE.

Anyway, so, Hooker Furniture is very nice, well made, and expensive. A piece out of a larger set with a chip that would fit perfectly into my room, look good with what I already have, and come home for cheap made the whole Padded Rock hunt well worth the exhaustion.

So, we finish the packing this week, close on Friday, and make our haul northwards to our new home, where we will shoe horn, fiddle, and figure how our stuff, our cats, and our lives will fit into the reduced space. We're only take the bedroom furniture with us in the trailer (The Padded Rock is already in place, awaiting the frame) and the Pod will show up later. I have a lot of blue painter's tape, measurements, and about 4 days to figure what will go in, where it will go, and if I can stand it.

I'll check back with you.

Thursday, April 24, 2008


I tried to cut off my right thumb with a piece of cardboard. Papercuts are bad, but cardboard cuts are hell.

MIL and I wrestled a few more pieces of furniture and some boxes into the third quarter of the Pod today, and I worked hard to prevent her from dragging the couch and my solid wood desk out there (she was trying to persuade me, and I stated flatly I wouldn't lift anything heavier than Ophelia today. I did end up lifting stuff and climbing into the stuff and shoving and all that...but the couch and the desk await the muscular Husband.)

(BTW, Scott, "PODS" stands for Portable On Demand Storage. Acronym cuteness, eh?)

So, there is a little over 1/4 of the Pod left to stuff and all the heavy, big pieces to fit. We had planned on renting a trailer. For a while we thought we'd have to rent a truck and a towbar for the car, but at this point we might make it with the trailer. I keep thinking of other things we have left to pack and I feel sick. Can you say "overwhelmed"? I knew you could.

So MIL left early, and I'm trying to get myself sufficiently packed and clean for an early bedtime.

In other news, I made some attempts at self maintenance this week, with sad results. One of the genetic items inherited from my dad are Big Fat Eyebrows that are trying very hard to do a unibrow thing. Oh, I've fought it for years, but plucking eyebrows is a Not Happy Thing. I don't want those little thin penciled brows my aunts had -- you know the kind, the ones drawn on in a look of perpetual surprise? But mine are...lush. Yes, we shall say Lush. Luxuriant. Extravagant.

So I bought a little home wax kit and just ripped all that luxury right off. I will not do that again.

It didn't really HURT that much -- I've had worse, easily. However, it did cause a million zits to erupt in the Area Formerly Known as Eyebrow. My skin's version of revenge. This tells me the whole waxing thing is a No. We live, we learn, we don't do it again.

Also, the wax is a little hard to manage, and now one eyebrow is about 2 millimeters too short on one end. In eyebrow terms, millimeters are miles. As if my face wasn't lopsided enough, I took off the three eyebrow hairs apparently needed to not look completely stupid.

This is why Maybelline makes eyebrow powder. I get to draw on my eyebrows anyway.

Oh well, at least they will grow back one day. There are definitely two eyebrows, though. I think they are terrified at the thought of trying to bridge the gap over my nose. Wax as threat.

I think from now on I'll just bleach my entire face.

Another Update

We have the Pod about 3/5ths packed. That's good, because we still have several large, cumbersome items MIL and I can't shift that must go in the Pod, so we can ramp down the packing intensity.

I have added to my bruise/cut/scrape/poke collection. Yay me. My arms and hands are sore.

And I must go to bed early tonight, so I can awaken at about 5 am and go to the airport and fly north to SEE MY HUSBAND! Yes, I'm excited.

In between the aching and stinging, I'm excited.

Time for my elixir of life combination.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

More Progress

The Pod arrived, and we've been stuffing everything into it like a giant jigsaw puzzle, or a game of Tetris, only instead of neat little shapes made of boxes, half of our stuff has legs.

Tired. I'm already tired.

Cats are a little freaked. I've moved assorted cat furniture to places they like, but as the couches and chairs vanish, they are not happy with the lack of soft, comfy places to lay down or hide under. I'm getting a lot more rubbing, cuddling and "Hey, look at my butt" than I'm used to.

I have a small but growing collection of bruises, scrapes, cuts, and bashed spots. Nothing serious individually, but as a group, there's a fair level of "Ow" happening. Also, I strongly suspect a cold germ is trying to get me. Very mild sore throat and some nose blowing.

Tokyo has had a few burps and hiccups dealing with me not being there IN PERSON, but that's more or less under control. Bosszilla has me on speed dial.

Trying to get my 'go to sleep' time cycled back around because I have to get up at o-my-god-thirty on Friday for my airflight. I settled automatically into a midnight-to 7:45 cycle. The cats get anxious if I sleep passed 8, because breakfast is supposed to be at 7:30 and they will starve because there is only dry food and they must have the canned food or die. At least, that's the story I get from the interpretive dance done on my head each morning.

Ok, time for caffeine and food before MIL gets here. And Aleve.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Shifting Priorities

Friday was my last regular day at Tokyo. I am "on call" next week, although Bosszilla has no particular projects upcoming that I'm not already working on. So, I made a few quick goodbyes and slid out. I don't want the party and the fuss (as I said before, I'll be back within a month). My desk is mostly empty and I'm sure the vultures will move in for the few things left.

So, now I have to live through this week until Friday. Friday, I fly up to Clemson to see The Husband (Yay!), help him move his stuff from his apartment room into the new place, and drive back down with him on Sunday. I'm excited about this.

I'm so excited, in fact, that I bought new luggage. Well, sort of. Last year I had to make a quick flight and needed three things. 1) not to have luggage 2)my laptop 3)a change of clothes. So, we made a fast trip to Target and found a tidy rolling laptop bag. It just BARELY fit my laptop, the power supply, and some underwear. I've been using it as my regular computer bag since then, and while it works, it is VERY tight on the laptop and rather hard to pack -- the main compartment is gusseted so it doesn't fully open. I've been looking for a replacement bag ever since.

FOUND IT! Office Depot and Samsonite came through for under $100 ( I could have gone for the leather one, or the Wenger/Swiss Army Knife fancy once, but...I'm cheap. And I have So Many computer bags at this point.) It's a little too large for regular use, but it will be great for the traveling in my future. I may let The Husband use it, too, when he is going back and forth (more justification!)

So -- new countdown! 7 days until HUSBAND.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Death is Odd

Around 10 this morning, I walked up to reception and heard that "something" had happened to one of the people who worked in the production area. Rumors buzzed all over the plant, but no one knew anything until the FHP officer came to the building. Then the announcement was made.

Diane died in a car accident last night. The highway patrol couldn't reach her daughter, so they contacted Tokyo for information.

I didn't know Diane well. She worked at Tokyo as long as I had. She always said hi when I walked passed. We would occasionally talk, or she'd show me pictures of her grandchild. We would see her at Walmart (this is still a small town and you see everyone at Walmart sooner or later) and she wen to the same doctor we did. She was a little odd. A tiny little black woman (she was maybe 4" 8) who wore socks and sneakers with skirted suits, she was emotionally reactive and sensitive, but very strong underneath all that. You learn these things being around someone for 13 years.

That was one reason I'd never really said to her that I was leaving. She'd been sad, even a little upset, to see The Husband go. It isn't like people don't know we are going, but I don't talk about it to all and sundry. Mostly it's because we really won't be gone -- we'll both be back as part of our agreement with Bosszilla to work remotely. I just don't want a fuss, because I won't be really gone. So I never mentioned it to Diana as the days went by and she'd ask about The Husband. Of course she knew I would leave, too, but I never said when. It's silly, but I thought it would upset her, whereas she was used to not seeing me for stretches of time if my schedule didn't bring me in or if I didn't walk passed her station.

I cleaned out my desk today and contemplated. I thought back to the last time I'd walked passed Diane's work station to hear her say "Hi, Sherri!" and to call back "Hi, Diane!", and realized that now I wouldn't have to tell her I was leaving Tokyo.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Worth It?

Hide your email address from spammers

I haven't tried this -- most of my spam gets filtered, and the bits that get through are sometimes very entertaining -- but it looks interesting. Anyone else play with this?

I Am Counting

As of today, there are 17 days left in my residency of this house.

The Pod (giggle) shows up on Monday. I have, of course, a fair amount of packing yet to do, but nothing that I can't accomplish easily within the time remaining.

Mostly, I'm ready to go. I'm ready to say good bye. I'm ready to move on.

I'm ready to start a whole new set of aggravations, frustrations, joys, giggles, and all that stuff.

I'm ready for the waiting to be over.

Seventeen more days.

Tomorrow it will be sixteen.

Yes, I'm counting

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

What Would Emily Post Say?

We are still three weeks from closing on this house. Ok, two weeks 6 days. So far, the only ones to spend any money on the house are us. I still have all the keys. So....

Is it tacky the buyers already have their mail coming here?

Or am I just oversensitive?

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Being Nice

The couple who are buying our house are military. He has been stationed overseas and has only seen the house in pictures, so today I agreed they could come over and look. It was a favor I did for the buyers before they take over the building that was my home for so long and repaint everything I so lovingly and tastefully painted in colors I don't want to know about.

They came over. Their parents came over. The agents came over. Total strangers came over. There were 'leventy-million people and a circus elephant in my house, opening doors, poking in closets, and terrifying the cats (who are only now, 3 hours later, emerging from the various cracks and crevices in which they hid.)

The Husband warned me ahead of time to be nice. I promised I would not hit anyone with a broom. I let them in. I talked politely. After about an hour and a conversation about tattoos (both were inked) and smiling and being nice, I said, very politely "I need to ask you to get the hell out of my house..."

Yes, I actually said that, with a big smile that actually showed in my eyes. They laughed. I laughed. The real estate agents laughed. And they all left.

I have a gift.

I am also very, very tired. Being nice to people for a whole hour just takes it all out of me.

Friday, April 11, 2008


Queen Mediocretia's mother (aka the Queen's Mum) died. Mediocretia's been very faithfully reporting the last days of her mother's life to her faithful and caring readers.

I've cried about it a few times, for her, for the echoes of losing my own parents, from general nerves, and from a slight case of jealousy that she had time to say those last few things and ask those last questions I didn't.

I'm going to remind every single one of you out there, those who know and those who don't know. Get it said. Get it asked. Skip the fear, walk passed the worry, and ignore those little voices-in-your-head that tell you no, you can't. Talk to that person. Whatever it is, say it. Write it in a letter. Call on the phone. Send a blasted email. Stop pretending you'll do it when you visit over the holidays, or when you feel braver, or when he's peaceful, or whatever lie/excuse/fairy tale you are telling yourself so you can put it off one more hour. Do it today. Do it now.

You don't have time. You really don't have time.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Date of Birth

Swiped from Solonor

This is what you do:

  1. Go to Wikipedia and type in your birthday.
  2. Find 3 events that happened on that day.
  3. Find 2 other people who were born that day.
  4. Find 1 holiday that is celebrated on that day.
I'm going to add a bit.
5. Find 2 other people who died on that day.

Because I'm morbid like that.

1870 - Women gain the right to vote in Utah Territory.
1961 - U.S.S.R. launches Venera 1 towards Venus.
2001 - NEAR Shoemaker spacecraft touchdown in the "saddle" region of 433 Eros becoming the first spacecraft to land on an asteroid.

1938 - Judy Blume, American author
1952 - Michael McDonald, American musician

Darwin Day

1804 - Immanuel Kant, German philosopher (b. 1724)
2000 - Charles Schulz, American comics author (b. 1922)

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

White Whine

You guys are really a help to me, do you know that? No, seriously. I spend so much of my time talking to cats that even seeing typing from actual human beans lifts my mood.

In other good news, I started and finished a whole book. Yeah, I know, whoopie. But it is a big deal. I haven't managed to finish a book yet this year. I've started a few, but my focus would go and I'd wander away. But last night I picked up Mercedes Lackey's Fortune's Fool, the third in her 500 Kingdom's "Fairy Tale Romance" series. They are trite popcorny books (well, the first was the best in the series and had a little more depth to it -- barely) and they are easy to gobble up.

Now, in between bouts of packing and laundry, I'm reading A College of Magics by Caroline Stevermer, a lot less fairy tale but more Young Adult, and enjoying it quite a bit. It's like almost being myself...

A Long, Dark Whine

I'm having one of my least favorite kind of day -- even though it is sunny, I feel dark. I couldn't sleep so I stayed up reading, which means I overslept this morning and have a cramp in my neck today. Things are frustrating me. I feel like cutting off the world, crawling into a hole, and pulling the hole in after me. I just don't want to be bothered. I want to hide.

Of course, I won't. That's why I am typing this. This is me (in case it wasn't clear) NOT cutting off the world. This is me standing up to my own dark mood and giving it the finger.

Feh. Fat lot of good that will do. Moods are a very hard thing to defy. The neck cramp is a dirty trick.

So, anyway, I got quite a lot packed up yesterday, but if I hadn't done it, I wouldn't be able to tell. I have to move boxes to the garage. I still have shelves to disassemble and some boxes to move out of The Husband's old office. Then I can work on my old office and maybe the library. The general air of mess is spreading around the house. Mostly, though, I need to clean the bedroom, since it is the room where I spend most of my time. Everything looks rather hellish. I haven't cleaned because I've been packing, so there's plenty of mess.

And I have to figure out what to do with my jewelry. My lovely jewelry box will be stored. Since our new bedroom will have no dresser, there will be no place to put the thing. It's beautiful. My MIL gave it to me some years ago. I think it was made in Korea, with brass hinges and trim, a box sitting on its own carved base. It isn't the most efficient of boxes -- really, I don't think that was the original purpose -- but I love it. However, the dictates of common sense say it is to be stored.

I have to work out something else for all my lovely stuff. I have far too many earrings, pins, and rings, lucky me. I like my sparkly bits. However, a big hunk will need to be packed up and stored in some other way for a long while. Haven't figured that out. I hate tossing everything into a sloppy pile. We've discussed one of those standing armoirs, but I'm not sure I want to spend the money. I've got some of those jewelry storage things, but, again, I won't have the drawers to keep them anymore.

Such problems. I am lucky to have them, I know. Still, they require solving.

Oh, it seems that Blogger's settings for preventing search engines crawling the site aren't efficient, at least to judge from my statistics. We'll see.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008


I'm debating the wisdom of maintaining a public blog.

Nothing has happened, but my life is changing. I am about to move into a new place where I know googling and online research are matter of course. The Husband has already taken most everything into a private or protected mode. Since I am associated with him, I probably must do the same.

Blogger has introduced a privacy setting so that only those who I list can read this weblog. I have not set it yet, but I plan to set it before the end of this month.

I've always assumed that anything I put online would be spread around the world in a matter of seconds. I tried to not post anything I thought would be possibly used against me. However, it seems that almost anything I could post -- anything I could think or say -- has the potential to be considered negatively by someone else, and that many people spend their time looking for things about which they can get disturbed.

In particular, the few times I've posted about someone else (specifically, about work) could haunt me in my search for new employment. They could also haunt my husband through me in his new world. I can't undo those posts and I don't particularly want to. Deleting them would do nothing -- they are cached somewhere. All I can do is make it very difficult for anyone to connect them to me.

Thus, I will be taking this weblog private. It bothers me that it has come to this, but one downside of the Interwebinet is that transparency is really subject to interpretation. If I don't want to constantly censor myself or wonder what thing that appears to me to be completely innocent will be interpreted in such a way as to hurt my husband, then I must take some control over who can access my information.

If you are one of those few people who give a damn what I think or say, please leave me a comment here and let me know. I'll arrange some method of getting your email address so I can put you on the list of those people able to access my blog. If I already have your email, assume I'll put you on the list until you discover I didn't (which may mean I don't really have your email.)

UPDATE: Blogger Help doesn't say how the privacy settings affect feeds, and I know many of you use feeds. However, it did point out some options I hadn't noticed that prevent most search engines from crawling the blog. I can also set an option that people must come to the URL to read and won't just "happen" via a search. So, I've made those changes and will keep things open for now.

I don't relish the idea of either censoring myself extensively or having to hide behind a wall, but I am concerned for my husband's sake. If these changes prove sufficient, then that's all I'll do.

Sunday, April 06, 2008

More Trivia

Yesterday I asked...

Monkey Business also featured actors from All About Eve and The Mating Season (and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, which I've seen too many times.) Who are they?
and no one tried to answer (Scott doesn't even count). Ok, it's like this.

Thelma Ritter was in All About Eve and The Mating Season.
Marilyn Monroe was in All About Eve, Monkey Business, and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
Charles Coburn was in Monkey Business and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (he was Piggy)
Larry Keating was in Monkey Business and The Mating Season (and Daddy Long Legs, but I didn't include that one. He also had a long running role on the TV show Mr. Ed).

Turns out Thelma Ritter and Marilyn Monroe were two other movies together -- As Young as You Feel and the infamous The Misfits.


The moving moves along. I'd show pictures of the boxes and empty shelves, but they look exactly like boxes and shelves everywhere during a move -- bits of dried dead bug, streaks of dust, and emptiness.

My ever helpful MIL (and that's not sarcastic) is about to help me go crazy (that is sarcastic). MIL seems to feel that EVERYTHING SHOULD BE PACKED TODAY, not realizing quite enough that I'm here ALL the time, not just the few hours she shows, and that I don't want to live the next three weeks in an echoing house. I don't intend a lot of last minute packing -- I hate last minute panic -- but I'm doing a little at a time so I can adjust.

And, honestly, some things I just don't quite know how to pack. Like electronics. First, finding boxes that fit is a bit problematic. Second, can you pack more than one thing in a box? Everything of that ilk is going into the trailer, not the Pod, since the Pod People (*snigger*) don't like electronics in their Pods for liability reasons.

Saying, or even typing, the word Pod three times in a row makes me giggle. Yes, I'm in a sad state.

I've been watching old movies, too. I had myself a mini Thelma Ritter festival last night -- Daddy Long Legs, The Mating Season and All About Eve. I would have watched A Letter To Three Wives if I hadn't gone to sleep. I tried watching With a Song in My Heart last week, but I couldn't make it through the soap opera plot. I also caught bits and pieces of Monkey Business yesterday. I'll have to sit through the whole thing sometime.

Quickie quiz/IMDB search -- Monkey Business also featured actors from All About Eve and The Mating Season (and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, which I've seen too many times.) Who are they?

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Not Enough Kleenex

What does it mean when there are no hormones involved, nothing bad is happening, there's no bad news, you haven't stubbed your toe or banged your elbow, and you have chocolate to eat...

Yet the least little thing you read can make you start crying?

Maybe I need to watch a good weepy movie and get it over with.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008


Things we must do once we are moved into the new place

1) Install a closet kit into the master bedroom closet. They simply must have been kidding.

2) REMOVE the laughable closet shelf from the walk in closet in the teeny-tiny bedroom so we can put actual storage shelving in there.

3) Decide what manner of bathroom shelving will go into the master bathroom. I gots too much stuff for a single under-sink cupboard. We aren't even talking about the Wall O' Product belonging to The Husband. Of course, he's getting his own bathroom anyway, which also needs much shelving.

4) Figure out where we can shove 5 litter boxes we are keeping of the 7 litter boxes we currently have and provide cat-proofing for the inevitable unhappiness this reduction will cause. You'd think 5 cats=5 litter boxes, but Nooooooo, this is not true. You see, some boxes are only for peeing in, and some are only for pooping in, but no one can agree which boxes are going to be designated for what, which means SOMEONE is always unhappy with the choices.

5) Rework my window coverings to the fewer/smaller windows the new place has.

I'm going to miss a lot of things from this house, like 2 linen closets, an actual pantry closet, and a huge big tiled room to do messy crafts in. I'm going to miss a lot of my furniture, like my antique desk and my big jewelry box (no place to put it, so I'm going to have to cram things into something much smaller). I'm going to miss all the windows and even the noise skylights (noisy when it rains, so much so that I can't sit in the living room). I'm gonna miss a lot.

But I'll get over it...eventually. Prepare for much whining though. I TOTALLY plan to whine.