Four days!

Today is my Friday, boys and girls. That's right. I have the next FOUR days off. Okay, so a four day weekend isn't that rare for me...but this will be my last one in a long while, so I'm entitled to a little excitement, eh?

I forgot to blog about my weekend, though Red pretty much took care of that for me. Despite one huge argument, it was fun. I was secretly hoping it would be crappy so leaving this place would be easier. I'm going to blubber like a fool. I hope EVERYONE is out of town that weekend.

To make matters worse, today my favorite co-worker--the girl I went to college with but didn't know there, the girl that really should hate me because my boss is a slacker and will make her do all my work while he lollygags around hiring someone--looked at me more seriously than she ever has before and said, "I'm so sad that you're leaving." Then I almost cried. It IS that time of the month though.

Another coworker almost made me cry while bitching that she now has to wear size SEVEN pants because she's six months pregnant. No sympathy for fitting into my pants at that stage in the game! I'd hate her if she wasn't so cute.

Tomorrow I'm going to Duluth to wee in a cup and look at some apartments. Actually, I only have plans to look at one apartment. I called a bunch of places today after work (so I procrastinate) and they either a) had no one-bedroom abodes available, b) didn't answer their phones, or c) didn't know what I was talking about. I really hope to fall in love the one I will be touring though. Rumor has it that a gorgeous harbor view is included in the rent. I could be watching ships from my window, kids. You know you're coming over. And I love you, so you can.

After the stress of Duluth passes, I get to spend three whole days in Tower. This may have been my longest stretch ever without seeing my mom. Yes, I do know that makes me a huge baby. I can't wait to get up there though....to the land of real seasons, where the leaves are now colorful and the air is cool.

In addition, this weekend is what those crazy drunks refer to as "Camp Shack." It's like a holiday. Kids should be required to write essays about it in elementary school:

What does Camp Shack mean to me?
Camp Shack is that one day during the year when I can eat twelve hot dogs and get shitty drunk in the middle of the woods, all the while slurring and puking and falling off the porch...and everyone loves me for it. It also means pissing outdoors. This year it might even mean licking a big block of salt for fun. I love my daddy for putting the Shack in Camp Shack and I love my sister's sophisticated friends for putting the Camp in Camp Shack...because I've never been to camp. I've been camping, but never to camp.

I've practiced for this a LOT since the last time it happened. I sure hope we go to the bars a little. I sure hope all the chips aren't fat free too. I wonder if I'm allowed to bring fatty, delicious, junk food. I hate diet time!