There’s No Place Like Home, There’s No Place Like Home…

well, for a small sum of money, home can be anywhere you like.

This week-end I am off to DC to accomplish a few goals. One, of which, is to find a home for the next 5 years. Since my acceptance into that “special” program, the clock has started to tick. So, with only my pad and pencil, cool metro eyeglasses with the matching scarf, I am off to met the cyber-realtor I’ve been emailing and speaking with for the past month.

Other than that, typical day at work dealing and un-dealing bad deals that worked out at one point but no longer contain their value. We spent most of the morning discussing non-issues that perhaps make sense for one of us but most of us sat around thinking why should I speak. Nonetheless, and for fear of groupthink lurking it’s ugly head, we all spoke up against the stupidity taking place and made it our business to get home as early as possible.

Now, I am sitting in Manchester’s lovely airport and thinking how a delay would affect my evening. Of course, there is a delay (as expected) but who’s counting and I’m sure my short one hour trip to BWI will come with a huge cost of delay after delay after delay.

(Might be quicker to walk from Portland to BWI?)

Anyway, I am off and my laptop battery, for once in its life, is almost dead. Of course, this airport is like a few dimes short of a hen house when it comes to outlets.

I’m out.

M.C. Davis

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