I’m in the Bahamas.
I’m serious. I left this morning with a backpack, a tent and a yoga mat.
I know, right? Who do I think I am? I don’t even know. I can tell you it was definitely a last-minute decision. Like… I bought a bathing suit from Target at 9:54pm last night. I’m writing this Caturday at 2:32am. My boss doesn’t know I’m not coming to work on Tuesday (or Wednesday) and… My parents didn’t find out any of this was happening until I was already in Miami. (Sorry!)
BUT… no one cares. Because it’s Caturday. So let’s cut to the chase and talk about who gets these gems if I decide to live out the rest of my days on an island…
My mom. Both cats go to my mom. I’m not kidding. She’s the only other person in the world crazy enough to treat them the way I do.
Moving on… Mitch is catsitting while I’m acting horribly irresponsible for a few days. I trust Ralph and Weaz will be perfect angels, right?
A little forewarning, Mitch-Mitch… Ralph
might will give you attitude. She’s sassy. Don’t take her sass.
And if you can’t find Weaz, she is definitely inside something (think: closet, backpack, refrigerator) OR she’s on top of the refrigerator sitting by the air vent soaking up all our warm air.
Actually, I think she’s trying to get to the wine. Keep it firmly corked or you’ll have to take her to the ER to have her stomach pumped. You know how she can’t stop after one
And keep an eye on my laptop. We don’t want her to get all drunk and send inappropriate pictures to her boyfriend in prison just like last time…
Alright, kittens. I seriously am in the Bahamas. Even though I’m writing this at 3 in the morning and at 3 in the morning I’ve actually decided that I’m definitely not going to get on that plane because it’s too scary and overwhelming and impulsive, I have faith that with at least a couple hours of sleep, this pre-posted post will find me alive and well on the sandy shores of a tropical island.
As my friend Jack so kindly reminded me in my state of complete and utter FREAKOUT: “”You have to keep showing up, being open, and doing the work. The journey into the self is not a group experience. It’s solitary work. But so many of us are afraid of being alone. So you need to experiment.”
Consider this my experiment. Holy moly.
See ya when I see ya.