At last! At last! At Bloody Long Last!

No, it is not about the Democrats nominating a black guy 145 years after the Emancipation. It is about finally disentangling myself from the tar baby from Hell. The amount of hassle and delay in getting my house rented for the summer and then preparing it for the arrival of the renters seemed like it would take up the whole summer for which it was being prepared. My year calendar showed that I was going to leave a week after returning from RV camping in Utah with my sister and cousin and their husbands. The calendar shows me leaving on May 1. Today is the 4th of June, 33 freakin' days later.

I was supposed to visit Chico -- I never made it. I still haven't seen Harvey's and Lisa's (and moppets') new house. I was still crossing items off to-do lists until 6 minutes before the Bayporter arrived to take me to the airport. (The last one was "wash bird shit off kitchen window". The ravens were still venting over the Edgar incident.) Even now I have yet to sign the Memorandum of Insurance from the new company because the agent's secretary cannot figure out how to send it to me as an attachment. No matter what I do, how hard I try, I somehow cannot get to the end of the bastard. Ever.

At some point one has to just leave and hope for the best. So I did. I am in Kelowna, a beautiful lake resort town in southern British Columbia. My luggage however, according to rumor, is languishing in Seattle.

Which is a good word. Most of my life has been a prolonged languishing. He was born, he languished, he died. RIP and QED.