Zoinks Scooby, I’m getting a reputation as the airport guy – which is fine. Last night I drove Angela out to the airport and dropped her off at the Southwest terminal where she met a friend who was flying in for the weekend. They jumped a rental car and were gone; off to make linguini with clams.

A few hours later I went back to the airport to pick up Mary flying in from California. We shared a glass of Makers Mark to celebrate her return. I spent the gas money she gave me on a trip to White Castle (ha).

Then around six a.m. I took Mary Beth to the airport to fly out to Virginia – she wishes everyone at the party well and the case of Rolling Rock is from her. So, I need to clean and do a little shopping to get ready for the main event.

“Do you just want to take me to the metro station?”

“Coffee!”

“If I make coffee you’re taking me all the way to the airport.”

“Coffee!”

“I’m making coffee.”

I bet I’ve been to that airport fifty times this year. To save you a little time on your next visit let me warn you that they have closed off the lower entrance to the main parking garage. So if you’re meeting someone at the baggage claim, or flying off yourself to parts unknown, you’ll need to enter the garage from the top floor and slowly spiral downward. I got the full van search from click and clack at the barricade.

The house is not dirty, with all of our time to clean of late we have restored the under surfaces to a nice sheen, unfortunately clutter abounds and I need to do laundry.

“How are you going to fit thirty or forty people into this space?”

“We’ve done it before, I don’t recall there being a problem. Besides, they won’t all be here at the same time.”

The lease is up at the end of February and M.B. is moving to Virginia so unless I get a new roommate this will probably be my last New Year’s here, and possibly the second to the last party that we have at circle K. Time has almost caught us my friends.