I’m going to bed, but figured I should write something first. Ross says there’s a 0.02% chance that we won’t go to Palm Beach ’cause of his ankle. Yeah, right. He can frickin’ stay home, but I’m still going. Not like I made him get hurt, but don’t think my dad’s gonna do that, so yay. Tomorrow’s gonna be frustrating, I think. Gotta bug FFP about the fax, work out orientation info with Sara (hope she wasn’t pissed about tonight), work on WNC, and … go to CVS. And pack! I have … *counts* … 10 days ’til we move, and if Georgetown stuff keeps up its new pace, time is gonna be precious.

Oh well, it’s bedtime, and I’m hoping my throat feels better in the morning. Adios.