Hmmm. February may be a short month, but there's still 43 days between us and the new (and at this point theoretical) place. But things are in motion, a decision has been made, I feel good. No more feeling like a hostage in my own space. No more jacktards thumping my floor and screaming obscenities when I step through the door, vacumn, or kiss my fiance. No fucking more. $1100 a month for this? Try again.
Not all grim news, though. We had our elections Canada training tonight, there've been a few legislative tweaks since the last election, but it's pretty much unchanged. 12 hours (really 14 plus), bring a pillow, food, water, possibly a book. Pick up the ballot box on Sunday afternoon, all done by this time Monday. Ms.W is enjoying the new job, our sick kitten is feeling much better (still no test results, tho) and it's all very...full.
43 days. I can do this. Not so hard. I've done much harder for far longer.
I'm just tired of having to.
But that was all she would say of the sound of that country.
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