So, I might go to England.
Spot on!
I'd love to catch the trolley to the lift, but I'm stuck in the loo watching the telly.
Someone has unexpectedly offered me a plane ticket to England. Someone I don't know, but who has followed me for years with my music, on my facebook page, and on this blog. And I am actually considering it. I'm going to go ahead and get my passport...which involves lines at the post office, and bureaucratic fun...and I probably won't get it until I need a walker...but I'm going to at least start the process.
Why would I go to a country I've never been to, on a continent I haven't visited since I was an infant? And put my trust in a total stranger? Might you ask...?
Because, life is short, and I don't think I would do much worse with trust in a total stranger than I have with those who claim to care most about me. And, I am trying to start again from nothing-and I am very tired. Very, very tired. Came to Springfield to open a thrift store, ended up in a friggin' domestic violence shelter...
The last two women expressing romantic interest in me turned rather abruptly when I either did not feel the love connection, or had concerns about anger and sobriety stuff...one punched me in the face and called me a whore, the other threatened me with witchcraft. The one who punched me in the face also beat up the one who threatened me with witchcraft. Oh...dyke drama. Gotta love it.
Thank goodness my friend from eleven years ago, from way back when I was in this region applying for grad school, had returned to Springfield. I'm staying in her room with her...an uncomfortable arrangement that I can get out of, AGAIN, if I take a deep breath and do a bunch of stuff I don't really want to do again...again...alone...with change in my pocket...dependent...no room of my own (as Virginia Woolf would observe)...to start again...
I've run all over the United States. Why not a totally new continent?
England! Big Ben! Driving on the other side of the road! I'll be the one with an accent! Tea! Royalty! Castles! Diversity! Lingering resentments over the whole "Independence" thing!
I'm insisting on a round trip ticket. Unless I abruptly get married over there or something (thank goodness I'm not impulsive like that or anything), I would come back...the ugly American...although, it's pretty groovy to think that someone thinks I'm shagalicious enough to fly me across an ocean.
No, I'm not a plane ticket ho. Unless it's someplace tropical.
Just kidding! No shagging on the first intercontinental date.
Maybe I'll meet a lesbian named Helga with really bad teeth and run away to Holland, where I will learn to milk cows properly and yodel while wearing wooden clogs.
It is much too soon to hope for such things.
Oh, BEHAVE!
