I was out with the ‘rents tonight, enjoying a sprog-free evening at the bookstore, when my shoe phone rang. It was a Virginia number and one not plugged into this phone (my husband’s old phone that I inherited when he went away).
“Hello?” say I.
“Hey, babe,” says the YodaMan.
“What up?” ask I.
“I’ll be in Alabammy at nine in the morning.”
I blink. I stutter. It comes out sounding like, “Bu-wha-huh-y-b-w WHAT?”
Thanks to his diligence in prepping for check out and getting to the ECRC before the hordes had descended, he completed his check out in a record 4 hours. Then, thanks to the awesomeness that is Kimba, he secured transportation hither and thither and yon and is taking a red eye tonight.
The sprogs will be thrilled (and it turns out they were telling the babysitter that Daddy was on an airplane flying over the house RIGHT THIS SECOND). I’m also thrilled, but at the same time, I’m completely unprepared. I had a timeline. I had plans. And now, I’m scouring my craptastic room, where I’ve had to store everything I own in Alabammy, and trying to cram shit in some kind of order in which two people can survive for a week. GAHHHHHHH!!!!! And also, SQUEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
What a night. :) It’s time to get my dance on.
Note to the world: Kimba is a total rock star! I hope he didn’t chintz you on dinner, chica. ;)