Uh, just kidding.

Just kidding about that last post, folks... I'm still here.

You see, there was an, er, problem with my departure. The story plays like this:

Phil, previously referred to as Boyfriend, is packing my luggage (like the god that he is). I am not a packer, and am instead trying vehemently to upload photos to my Flickr page, as my dad's excited to see them. The problem is that my computer keeps restarting itself. I am mildly annoyed.

As the packing comes to a close, my father and Phil are present at the Zipping of the Final Zipper, signaling the end of packing. Then, my phone rings. It's an 800-number. I pick it up.

"Blah blah blah, this Northwest Airlines, blah blah blah, press 1 for this important message regarding blah blah blah."

So naturally, I press 1.

"Blah blah blah, your flight tomorrow morning has been cancelled. Blah blah blah, we've put you on another flight for Tuesday, March third, blah blah blah. Have a great night!"

OH MY GOD. I HAVE NO FLIGHT TO STAGING.

So naturally, I panic.

I recover quickly and call Peace Corps. No answer at all of the standard travel agent numbers, so I call the emergency line. I'm put through to someone who can help me, and he assures me that all is not lost, and that I will get to Morocco... eventually.

Folks, as it stands, my journey is on hold until the Travel Office opens tomorrow morning at 8:15a.

Don't judge me.

If you're yearning* for more Peace Corps blogs, please click here... but only if you promise not to judge me too hard, should you find my blog inferior. Because it might be.

Bonus: I'll also be listed there soon! That's kinda neat to think about. :) Let's just hope that I get placed in a site with electricity and enough internet juice (that's a technical term) to let me update occasionally.

In other news, I filled out my brother's FAFSA form tonight (as he's currently frolicking in the snow piles of Myfeetarecold, AK), and it caused me to bleed from my eyeballs. No, really, I'd rather file my entire family's income taxes and have my wisdom teeth removed again than have to fill out another FAFSA. Hence, my post will end abruptly.


*In a sixth-grade spelling bee, I spelled yearn like this: u-r-n. It sounded silly then (and urned me - haha! - a big fat DQ), but little did they know that I was merely the pioneer of the new IM/texting language that schoolchildren would speak fluently only three years later.