Holy Merciful Crap

It's official, we've entered full "freakout because we are about to leave the country and everything we've ever known and loved for a quarter of a year" mode.  It is surreal to be a day away from what we have worked for and dreamed about for six months.

James spent months dragging himself out of bed early enough to open Starbucks, and his afternoons getting cried on, cried at, cried about, cried with, farted on, concussed,and punched in the stones by utterly unapologetic seven year olds.

I was in my desk ( how I got there at times is still open to speculation ) at Discover Card at 6:00 AM, telling the world one person at a time that yes, you do in fact have to pay your bills.  And no, I can't excuse half your debt if you pay what you owed last month. And yes,it is legal to take your stuff for not paying up.  But at least I learned some creative new expletives and never got hit in the nads (although I was threatened with much worse).

So here we are, in a kind of brutal limbo where we can't cash in a half year's effort, but our bags are literally packed and waiting to be slept on under a belgian viaduct.