For years now, I’ve talked about my future expatriation to the UK. Everyone knew it was coming, whether they wanted to accept it or not. In any event, in the months and weeks leading up to July 22nd, my friends and family members have questioned me on how they will keep in touch.
I thought about making a blog. And then I dismissed that thought, thinking in its place that journaling feels incredibly self-indulgent. This public display of journaling only compounds the self-indulgent factor. Nevertheless, journaling for the sake of my friends and family lessens my impression of blogging’s self-aggrandizing aspects. This being said, I get the feeling that while many of you might find the idea of me blogging about my life across the ocean novel, its novelty may wear off and I’ll still just be here blogging about my life to the faceless internet. Or, you know, I’ll get tired of blogging and abandon the idea altogether.
So this is an experiment.
I’m still in Orlando, with eight days left for go-time. I am in the process of selling/ditching all my stuff. Someone just came by to pick up my small-animal cages. I’m lying on the floor, propped up by one of the two pillows I have left. I have one week left of work, and I better get a party at the end of it. If after over seven years of editing-office-bitch-ery I don’t get a goddamned party, I will be hell-of pissed. Okay, so I won’t really be pissed, but sorely disappointed. And if I do get a party, there better not be any ice-cream cake. I don’t know what it is about my office and ice-cream cake, but any time they have a party they always have stupid ice-cream cake. I’m lactose intolerant. I can’t eat any damn ice-cream cake.
Anyway, yes. So, still in Orlando. Still have a lot of stuff to do. Still have to finish the week off at work. Still can’t eat ice-cream cake.
I had my garage sale yesterday with the help of Brittany, Jason, Tommy, and Heather, and I had a few browsers and even fewer buyers (who suggested that the reason I don’t have a husband is because I would not budge on my $8 sale price for a 14k gold necklace. Nice). My check engine light went back on on my car on Friday, which throws a wrench in to my selling-car plan.
Next weekend, I plan to visit Grandmommy and Bobba (although they don’t know this yet) and mom and Grandma (in Ocala). Somewhere along the way, I should see dad and pay him the money I owe him. Also, you know, give him hugs and stuff. Perhaps he will take hugs as payment. I will investigate this option.
In between this working and seeing-of-important-people-before-leaving, I must pack and clean out the house. And perhaps clean the house. Although I had to clean the house before moving in and thus should not necessarily be held responsible for cleaning it upon leaving, well, I’m just a nice person and would feel bad if I left without doing this.
I would like these final eight days to fly by in a whirlwind, thus jumping over all the less-enticing aspects of moving, but I realize I have important things to do and important people to see. I hope the important people to whom I refer and to whom I address will appreciate my efforts to give them just one more outlet to remain informed of my goings-on. Having said this, I now find this whole blog thing a little less self-aggrandizing and a lot more self-sacrificing. So there you go. I do this for youuuuu.