Crreeeeepy Crawlers

First of all, I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for being such a recurrent blog-stalker lately. What can I say? When I have nothing to do, I go through people's old posts. I solemnly swear that I am not a creeper. Well, at least not a certified creeper, because I have met all of you personally, and thus am not just a random, scary Internet lurker. I can assure you that I am a relatively well-adjusted member of society. I have all my teeth, and I don't have a history of bed wetting or torturing animals. So don't fret! My interest is well-intentioned. You all have such fantastic stories, and I enjoy re-reading them! Keep writing.

My flight to Florida leaves at 7. I feel like a child. I am all packed and ready to go. I can NOT wait. I am excited to go to the airport, with all its people-watching and magazines and shoe-shiners and $29 concessions. I am excited to get on the plane and feel the last gusts of Michigan winter feebly try to accost me through the flimsy boarding tunnel. I am excited to eat peanuts, and meet interesting people(hopefully non-smelly, non-mouth breathing people) on the flight. I am VERY excited to walk out of the airport in Orlando and experience the euphoric shock of humid, hot air that has for so long been foreign to my senses. One more time: I AM HAPPY TO BE GOING ON THIS TRIP. This actually is one time in my life when I wish I owned a camera, because I actually would take pictures of this glorious hiatus. Because honestly, when is the next time I will have the opportunity to go on this type of vacation sans job, kids, and other big-girl responsibilities?

K I'm done.


Or rather, "M-I-C...SEE YA LATER!"