I was figuring my last week on the Peninsula to be full of Olympic wildflowers, beach walks, maybe some crabbing, and lots of visits to the local haunts I have come to know and love over the last few years—and mostly no work. I guess I neglected to consider that picking up and packing up all of our worldly goods would take considerable time and energy. Ugh. Work. Just in a different form. And frankly, I would have been happier underwater, even in the Columbia River.
We did fit in some prolonged goodbyes, a round of golf at the local duffers course, time at the pub, lots of Elevated Ice Cream and of course one last wonderful stroll on the beach with our furry buddy. And that furry, salty buddy must have known something was up because she partied like it was 1999 (and then didn’t want to stand up the next day…getting old sucks). But that part of our week probably deserves its own post.
The bottom line is, packing up is hard to do. But with the Grey Goose all shined up, tuned, up and packed up, I guess we did it.
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