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Schedules are my friends!

This is as much for me as you. Perhaps more.

When I wake up, I will:
Become clothed
Make sure to bring the Bag of Fun with me
Visit the gas station, fill tank, top off slightly-sagging tire
Visit pharmacy, pick up The Pill, pick up The Bad Joke Present and Dr. Pepper
(time permitting) get photos printed
Hit the Gay Denny's for brunch with emptybackpack
Travel homewards
(failing time-permitting earlier, get photos printed)
Pick up frame, keychain, and Planned Entertainment in case his imagination fails us
Pick up handkerchiefs
(time permitting, more books in more boxes)
Drive to Mesa
Watch whatever there is to watch, attempt to not bawl my eyes out too much of the time, and say goodbye-for-now (goodbye for I'm-not-sure-how-long) to my best friend in this universe and several others, the man to whom I outsource my sanity when I don't have enough to get by on. I can almost type it without crying now.
Drive home.
Continue packing.

Maybe I load the car and drive to San Francisco, Trip 1.

Maybe I drive back in time for dinner.

I keep on packing.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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