“Unattended baggage will be sold as slaves” is what I thought the loudspeakers were saying yesterday as we unloaded our stuff at the curb of the airport in Cincinnati. I think I have “wishful hearing,” combining what was actually said with a silly joke plaque I’ve seen in restaurants — “Unattended children will be sold as slaves.” I’d work on clearing this up if it were possible, except it’s so amusing. My brain has to have fun sometimes.
One of Peter’s bags was big enough that I thought we might have to rent a backhoe at the airport to pick it up. At least I can comfort myself with the thought that it won’t be returning with us for four years, by which time Peter will have decided to move here permanently, I’m sure.
This morning, we find out where, exactly, his dorm room is, and meet his roommates in person. And their assorted parents. I have absolutely no idea what to expect with regard to the parents. Wish me luck!
😯
white pebble 