Almost time to celebrate (although it won’t be a *real* wahoo until he’s in the car with us, and we’re leaving the pound parking lot).

After five days of fretting and worrying and wondering, it has arrived. Remington Day is here! We’re leaving to make one last drive to Youngstown and back, and then no more wandering for Mr. Remy. He’ll be home.

Well, at least until the poor thing gets dropped off at the vet hospital for neutering. Haha

We’ve been behaving like expectant parents, which, I suppose, should be no surprise. Talk has been about little else, and as a result, my school prep has suffered. If I told you I wasn’t hoping for a snow day or two come Monday, I’d be lying. It’s no excuse, I know, but I just haven’t been able to concentrate the last couple of days. The tap shoes still sit upstairs in the closet; I haven’t even thought about choreography, outside of mapping out a couple of basic moves on the hardwood floor in my moccasins.

It’s OK, though. I’m not apologizing for it. I need to get through the craziness of welcoming a new family member into the house and getting him acclimated to his surroundings. Then we need to have family over for the big “reveal” — I really want him to meet everyone. After that, all of you can come over for tea.

I guess I should get off this box and start getting ready, while the Thriller is busy outside with the snowblower. Or maybe just one more coffee beforehand. Yeah, I like that idea.

Updates on the way, fiends — thanks for following this little journey with me.

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PS – Happy Birthday to Finkville reader Helen today!