Like a death in the hall that you hear through your wall, New York, I love you, but you're freaking me out.

I'm catching the night flight to Seattle tonight. Should be there by dawn. In just enough time to feel the weight of the week come crashing down on me and allow me to pass out on whatever spare bed I'm squatting on tonight. I hope I haven't forgotten to pack anything. Looks like I haven't, but I hope John will double check just in case. I hope Septimus cleaned his house. I hope this week passes quickly. I hope the rental agency hasn't lost the reservation I made with them, so I'll be able to drive out of Seattle onto Vancouver as soon as I wake up. I hope none of my brothers will try to stop me. Look at that, I'm just a bucket full of hopes, brimming with optimism. Ha.