My Darlings,

I am here stuck at home, attempting to pack up all but the hearth for my venture back to C-ville. Hence far, this effort has turned sour, as I have realized the magnitude of the hellhole I have created both in my house, as well as in my mode of transportation, the Imagination Station. I have decided to thoroughly clean said vehicle; my mission will probably not reach its full realization, however as I suspect that soon the minions of cleaning will no longer be able to rally the troops of my efforts. Considerable anguish and exhaustion has resulted from this packing endeavor, bound by manifest destiny to fruitlessness.

I suspect that unpacking said hellhole upon my arrival to Charlottesville is doomed to be an even more exhaustive fanfare flourishing with symptomatic displays of Attention Deficit Disorder and unwieldy hunger.

Therefore, I bid your assistance in unloading all of my critters, super styled heaps of polyester, and associated neuroses from my vehicle of travel either tonite or tomorrow.

If you help me, I, Jane Torpedo, will love you forever.

xoxo,

Jane Torpedo