The one thing that sucks about living la vida loca is that you usually have to leave behind your loved ones to do it.
Ah me.
Anyway, tis near midnight and I should not be writing of such things, lest I lose control of my emotions completely and start scouring the radio stations for Joe Cocker tracks. Then, dear friends, you will know it is all over.
No, indeed, I shall pry my eyes away from the spectacularly beautiful card my darling best friend Frankie gave me on the last day we saw each other (incidentally, she’s about to set off on her own mad adventure, relocating her three bubbas over to the UK) and go exactly where I belong…
“Where the eagles fly, on a mountain high!”
Oh no, ehem, sorry, I mean…bed.
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