The end is the beginning is the end is the beginning is...

Well folks. It's my last morning in Seattle. I am starting it off by waking up inadvertently too early before my early alarm has even gone off and being unable to go back to sleep because of all the things yet to do that are continually running through my head. Harumph. Not a good way to start off Road Trip Day number 1. I can already guarantee this first leg of the trip will involve numerous Star*ucks stops (but hopefully not as numerous public restroom usages! - eep.).

Anyway, so maybe one of these days I will write a post detailing all the lovely, wacky, hilarious, awesome, etc. events that have taken place the last couple of weeks as I went out and celebrated with my friends during the official Ysabel's Final (But Hopefully Not...?) Hurrah In Seattle Extra Long Extended Party (oy, I didn't even like to party much in college - despite what my family members think - what am I doing partying for two weeks straight now?!...blergh). 

But in the meantime - since my eyelids are getting heavy again, and there is now a small chance that I may fall back asleep, thereby almost guaranteeing that I will oversleep, wake up, scream, pee in my pants a little, and run around town like a crazed woman trying to get all the final errands done before capping off the Goodbye To Seattle celebrations the only way I know how: A Salty's brunch buffet - I will say this:

• Somehow, on Sunday when I am somewhere between southern Oregon and northern California, I am going to have to find a way to get to a Catholic church and go to confession because as I tried to mail my 3 remaining giant boxes of CDs, books, sheet music, other valid forms of media purses, shoes and clothes to Schmooblebunnies via Media Mail (Yeah, that's right government! Take that! ... Okokok, please don't arrest me! I am just working under a VERY tight budget! And I am a starving artist! GAAH!), I had this little exchange with the postman:

Me: Hi, I'd like to send these Media Mail please. 

*dramatically hauls one large box onto the counter with much strain even though it really only weighs like 15 pounds*

Postman: Media Mail? ...This box is awfully light don't you think?

Me: ...

Postman: ...

Me: Umm..."light"? Uhh, I DON'T THINK SO! 

*begins to recite the Rosary instinctively in penitence*

• Bossman and Greatest Print Assistant - Now New Buyer...Ah, and the Grasshopper Becomes the Master - Ever threw me a surprise going away party (yeesh, with the parties!) during my last day of work yesterday. It was very sweet and I got emotional (I blamed it on the estrogen. Out loud.) and very much against my entire plan of sneaking out of work early without having to say goodbye to anybody. Bah. Anyway, much of the conversation at the party was centered around a) Southern accents, and b) nude beaches. Also: I guess this confirms that Bossman never caught on to all the slacking off I did at work during these past two years. I mean, if he knew, would he have bought all that food and cake for the party? Probably not. Yes!!

• Day 2 of the Road Trip will start off with a visit to my former Music History professor/mentor. This is both fun, funny and spectacularly nerve-wracking. Namely, because this is the same man who, after three years without seeing each other after I graduated with my undergraduate degree and were reunited when we played in the same summer music festival, said to me when I saw him backstage during a rehearsal of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik: "Ysabel. So tell me what dance form this movement is in."  Zoiks! Once a musicology student, always a musicology student, I suppose.  In any case, as I emailed him a few nights ago to plan out schedules and such, I jokingly wrote at the end of my email: "ps. Should I be studying the Stolba between now and Sunday? Haha." Whereupon he responded only with these words: "Grout. Not Stolba." ACK!

• (un)Lucky's registration expires at the end of the month. As in, in 2 days. As in, the precise day that I cross the border from Oregon to California. And if all goes according to plan, I will sell him (Aah I can't even think about it, it's so SAAAAAD!) to a new owner (GAAAAAH!) in California in about one week (WAAAAH!!). So as I walked up to the counter yesterday to renew his registration and get new tabs, I had this little exchange with the licensing lady:

Ysabel: So I'm driving down to California and am going to sell this car in a week. Do you guys prorate these registrations by any chance?

Lady: *looks at me incredulously* .... No.

Ysabel: *sigh* Ok. Couldn't hurt to ask, I guess.

Well, I'm off. Wish Joools and I luck as we attempt to maneuver (un)Lucky over the mountains and through the woods to the beautiful land of northern California without any occurences of implosion, explosion or general all-around ceasing of function. Wheee!