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August 25th, 2018

Dept. of the Weekend

Getting Things Done

In less than a week, Andy and Emily will take off for their eight-day trip, u-haul trailer and all, to Seattle. They're in the last crazy days of packing, always in need of more boxes, and terribly behind. Which is absolutely normal for moving, but I feel for them. If I have any evening time this week, I'll go over and offer what help I may. 

I've determined that I have another week of vacation available to take this year, and I'm going to ask to be cleared to take it the third week of September. That will allow Bob and me (wow - that's grammatical, but sounds weird) to fly out to Seattle, with their cats, Tommy and Lily. We'll be babysitting the cats while they drive out and get settled into their new place. Thank god, they found a place they could afford, 20 minutes outside the city. Emily has found a couple of part-time nanny gigs that she can handle on top of her classes, and Andy, who hasn't yet found a job in his field, says he'll Uber until he can. With GPS, one doesn't have to be familiar with where one's driving, I suppose. 

Argh. I'm worried. 

Today, we got rid of some medical records and such that go back mostly to 2014, but a few that go back to 2010. None of them are necessary at this point. It allows us to clear out a section of the office which we've sort of planned to make the visiting kitties' space - we have a cat tree, so the old cat tree, which Bob was able to cut down by one level* has been moved in there for the micro-cats (they're full grown and still only half the size of Phil and Opie.) That's where their litter box will be as well, oh joy. Still, it's only for two weeks.

I got my hair cut, and I'm about to take a shower to get ready for karaoke shenanigans. Why karaoke, you ask? 

Because tonight, we're invited to a goodbye party thrown by some of their close friends. It's at a favorite bar of theirs, where, I am reliably told by my first born, There Will Be Blood Karaoke. The party doesn't start until 9 o'clock, which strikes me as altogether too late to get started on partying of any kind. That undoubtedly marks me as a feeble oldster, to which I willingly cop. Ah, well; that we're invited is a mark of ... I don't know - respect? Andy definitely wanted us there. 

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