It is raining. All the bins we use to carry things to the island are already there. We shall be the plastic bag crossers of the bay in a borrowed boat in the rain. I feel like someone slammed me into unconsciousness last night.
I am whining like a child.
I don't want to not have internet. How shall I live without you?
I have to go put my clothes in plastic bags now.
I have to pull up my big girl panties and pretend to be a grown-up.
I dreamed I was a teacher and also working in a restaurant. Training had been, unfortunately, absent.
Someone gave me a lipstick.
I better go. Mr. Moon is obviously way ahead of me on coffee.
Here I go.
Whine, whine, whine.
Wander, wander, wander.
Wonder why am I doing this?
If you want to know about Dog Island, just do a search here and read some of my past posts from when I went there and did have dial-up access. Pictures, too.
Oh dear. I am going to miss you all so much.