There are times when a little perspective is called for: I'm not a breast-cancer patient insured by WellPoint. I'm not in Arizona (and even if I went there, which I won't, I'm a lily-white blond). I do live in Virginia but we have a one-term limit for governors, so we'll get through this.
So given all that, what have I got to gripe about? Seven interminable weeks. That's what...
WYFP (which stands for "What's Your Fucking Problem?") is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pootie pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here. Won't you please share the joy of WYFP by recommending?
On February 14th (awww, isn't that romantic) I became officially engaged to Kossack trs. The wedding is July 2nd - which the mathematical among you will note is actually 10 weeks away. Fine - neither of us really care about the wedding anyway. If it weren't for my mother, bless her heart, we'd just elope.
But it's seven weeks, seven long, intolerable, interminable weeks until moving day. You see, trs lives in Illinois. It is, according to Google directions, precisely 739 miles from my door to his (747 by my odometer, but that includes pit-stops). He'll be here next weekend (hooray!), but flies back out on Monday (boo hiss). Then we see each other Memorial Day weekend when we go to Memphis and he does the "meet the family" thing (I've met his). That's it. For seven looooooooooong weeks.
So that's it, iriti? You signed up to do WYFP and that's ALL YOU GOT?!?!?!?
Yeah, I know. I'm blessed.
So what's on your mind tonight?
PS: Nurse Kelley requested some photos. Since Nurse Kelley has a foot of snow, here's some spring: