I was hanging in the Doll House with best ever buddy and cabana boy Ben.
We was watching the "Survivor" finale.
We was having a snarking good time!!!
Snapping my fingers, tapping my toes, shuffling back and forth across the room, dancing for the first time since the great "ankle-breaking" caper.
Dancing.
Dancing!
Dancing!!
Dancing!!!
I started collecting clothing from the closet, making little piles, preparing to pack for the trip.
I pulled the travel file from my briefcase. During a commercial break I decided to grab my passport from the persimmon chest in the dining room of the main house.
I popped out the Doll House, across the driveway, through the carport, up the steps, across the deck, through the back door, into the house, straightaway to the persimmon chest, opening the "passport drawer", reaching in, grabbing in vain...
NO PASSPORT!
The trip was suddenly on. And I was tripping...
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