First Class Mistake

When last I left you, I was not going to be a sky pirate captain because my husband is a quitter—a died-in-the-wool giver-upper who never supports my dreams.

Angelina Jolie (Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow) in her black uniform and eyepatch, on the deck of her skyship, against a background of clouds and skyscrapers

I’d have had a better hat, though.

I am, as it happens, still not a sky pirate captain.
I am, however, a person who has literally paid for a hotel by the hour, (though I’m sure the good people at Ramada don’t advertise this service) upgraded herself out of the best flight ever, and—because I love you—snapped a photo of the most mockable woman in all of Georgia.
Here’s what happened:

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Here is how fucked up and disorganized I am:

screenshot from previous blog post with sentence circled in pink: "In the meantime, we're off to visit Offspring for a quick weekend, as he's graduating from AIT.


I wrote that Monday night and published it on Tuesday.  My actual flight was Tuesday afternoon.


Cut to me frantically throwing whatever’s reasonably clean into a carryon, because I have a feeling about this trip and I do not want to check any bags.

Text: "Foreshadowing" (white on grey background)


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I’m Probably Already Dead—That Would Explain a Lot


I’ve said before that if you ever see I’ve skipped a post you should assume I’ve been killed by spiders—because it is 100% reasonable to assume it will be the spiders that kill me someday.  I know this because they are out to get me; yes, I have proof and no, I don’t want to talk about it.  That’s not what we’re here for today.

(IT Crowd) Morris Moss pulls out bucket of popcorn and blue soda, excited for story time. "Ok. Ok... GO!"


It turns out, I was wrong. 


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Locked Out: A Love Story (with monsters)


This blog—as you’ll have noticed from the title and the other posts and basically everything—is about the conversations with my husband.  I like him, he likes me, we spend time together and we talk. 




This is the time of year all that changes; my haunt is in full swing and we’re now on opposite schedules (highly recommended for couples who secretly hate each other, btw).  Thus I present to you: Actual Texts From My Husband, including Conversations With Various Zombies, Clowns, And At Least One Demon.


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