23 days...

Surreality setting in, even amid the immobility.  The 1st of 4 Mondays to go, less than a full month, and much to accomplish to make it to that point, seamlessly.

There was consideration, whether here or in the journal, about holding out to 2020, but I have a hard time seeing it.  I think the 40th timing is too auspicious, and the need for a change too clear.  The year end reports and steady downward trajectory mark it as well.  Give me one more full year of the SC, 1-3 more twirls through Londontown, a final hurrah! hurrah!  And then.

It makes sense every which way you look at it.  Provided no one else moves in on the idea before May.  Put the condo on the market for the fall.  The wheels in motion...

Where will you be at this time next year?  Who cares, for this time next month I'll be en route to Ushuaia, having just basked in the glow of the Torres.  Unbelievably.  Time, you beauty and mocker of all things, all plans.  As the Globe tickets get purchased for May and October.  As you toy with how much to spend on Company, while the FIFA application goes in very hot.

And then there was Wray.  I remember you, and the pirate, too.  Time and tide.  Alas.  A reminder: Use them while you can, McMahon.  Remember where are you going.  Rich eyes, poor hands.  Sooner or later, it all comes back around...