Yesterday, exactly eight years ago (EIGHT YEARS... allow a moment to let that sink in, please!), I stumbled off an aeroplane*, sans luggage, a la refugee, and into the welcoming (albeit slightly chilly on that November 1996 day) arms of America.
Okay, the part about being sans luggage wasn't exactly my doing (even though, sadly, the part about me looking like a refugee WAS all my doing!). I wish I COULD travel that light, but alas, my purse alone contains everything from a casket to a needle and anything in between WITH PLENTY OF ROOM LEFTOVER for all the how-to books I purchase on a daily weekly monthly basis.
No, the luggage was lost courtesy of several British Scareways baggage handlers at Heathrow (for once losing something wasn't my fault) and thus I ended up spending my first night in the United States very sexily in...
happy 8th anniversary! never regret coming? don't you miss your friends and all? i'm afraid of that if i happen to "have to" move over there with the man one day.. and the bush-situation doesn't make it any more appealing *sigh*
Eight years....jislaik that's a fair time.
Well done...it till escapes me as to why you want to stay, but all the same.
Gooi yourself a lekker braai...with a chop, dop and a mop...and you're laughing.
Happy anniversary, sweetie! Ironically, my 5th anniversary of LEAVING said grand and glorious shores is coming up the end of the month.
So, as a gift-I hearby swear that if you are ever deprived of your luggage by British Airways (whom are, actually my favorite airline, as they just openly hate you instead of pretending to like you like the other airlines do), then I will mail you a pair of clean new knickers and some BeneTint.
Anything I can do to help.