Just a quick update to tell you who were sweating over the state of my nonpackedness.
Stop it. Don’t go back and reread that sentence. It is SO a word. Because I said so and have I mentioned that I have a degree in English? Yes. Cower in THAT shadow of pomposity, why don’t you.
Oh, and ‘Pomposity’* is not so much a word. I’ll give you that. I suspect that Steve Miller made it up. And he does not have the Mighty However Useless Degree In English.
So I’m packed. I’m using a piece of the new luggage set that my Mom-In-Rock gave me for Christmas. That and a new pair of New Balance tennis shoes, which I will also be using on my trip. Right around commute time for you this morning (if you’re reading this on Monday morning), I will be embarking on what has come to be called the Bataan Death March through Chicago’s O’Hell airport. For some reason, American Airlines has its own terminal in one end of the airport but American Eagle (which is my connecting planelette from the Frozen Tundra) disembarks its passengers somewhere around Egypt. Thus, tomorrow, I will be prepared to sprint. And if you work in O’Hell airport and see a curvy round girl wearing a Tinkerbell t-shirt collapsing over her laptop bag, that would be me. So feel free to say hi. And also boot up the airport defibrillator.
I packed the small suitcase, amazingly enough cramming two pairs of shoes, stockings, socks, more panties than I will really need, a Dayam!bra (which takes up more room than a normal bra with the anti-gravitational features) a pair of black jeans, capri jeans, cargo shorts, a dress, two cardigans, my boxer shorts, two white t-shirts, a black v-neck t-shirt, flat front dress pants, my makeup and accompanying hair goo, my ass splinter pearls, my print camera with uber zoom attachment, four canisters of film, a lint roller, my digital camera, and probably something else. And I just realized that I don’t have the pants in there. Man.
It’s also snowing today and it’s very pretty and lovely outside. Something about snow makes nighttime magical. It never really gets dark the night of a fresh snowfall. The sky instead takes on an amber glow. It’s the reflection of all the light bouncing off the snow up into the sky. I think it’s called albedo, the measure of reflection of snow. Take that Dr. Moran who gave me a B minus in Meteorology. I still also know which direction low pressure systems turn in the Western hemisphere.
Since we’ll be gone for the next several days, I should probably go shovel our walk. Which is probably just as well, since I obviously had nothing really to say anyway.
Have a good week!
*Of course, I meant “Pompatus” here, “pomposity” is really a word, and maybe if I wish hard enough, the Blue Fairy will make me into a real English Major. I suppose I’ll have to read more of those books on that damn list though.
(Oh, and there’s a new Quoted up too!)
