My goal was to do it on July 31 until my two friends had to go and ask “Why wait?” I kind of stammered through a half-ass list of stuff that was slowing me down for one reason or another. Fortunately, they cut me off before I could even finish making what was shaping up to be a pretty crappy argument anyway.
That’s when my fiancee showed up with the news that she had talked to her youngest son–a brilliant 17-year-old anarchist/pub cook–and gotten his blessing. This was the final piece of the puzzle for her, placing the timeline roundly in my lap.
It was Chris and Michael’s contention that I was being a pussy of sorts. They joked about “White Fanging” me if need be–an allusion to the movie where the boy throws rocks at his pet wolf so he’ll run out into the wild where he belongs.
The truth is, I really am running out of reasons to delay this announcement. Particularly considering my desire to work out a freelance arrangement with the agency. After all, that generally means things like giving plenty of notice, helping with transitional stuff, assuring clients that they will remain in good hands, etc.
So it looks like tomorrow I just might reach down into the sack and see if I can’t grab a pair. No guarantees, but if you’re on the growing list of people who seem to enjoy watching this particular sausage being made, you might want to check back tomorrow night for an update.
I’m 50/50 if you want to know the truth.