Today, we move. (Well, first, we whine, get McDonald’s breakfast, pack some more, THEN, then. At nine we move.) We move after less than three hours of sleep, following an entirely too stressful (and quite random) day and night. Such is life though, no?
We will be moving across the street from our 500-square-foot studio shoebox to a palacial 900-square-foot apartment. With walls. And a 9-foot-long sink counter. And an office. And, well, the holy grail, or so I hope.
Quite excited. What, however, does this have to do with me being off the grid?
I WILL BE SANS INTERNET UNTIL SEPTEMBER 27TH.
Homeslices at AT&T can’t come flip the switch on our DSL until then. Full disclosure: I almost cried when I found that out. No joke. There, I said it, I am pathetically dependent on the internet. (Plus, it’s how I help contribute to kitty’s food budget.)
That means that I will be incommunicado via my delightful contact form up there. If you still want to reach me, and please do, use the email I check via my Blackberry: LRIDDLE @ GMAIL.COM
Or, hit me up on Twitter: @fiftyfootbride
Or, if it’s a dire emergency, contact good ol’ Colleen and make her give you my phone number. I prefer texts, as I’m a paranoid weirdo who screens calls. (I have a really freaky phone number, so I get A LOT of junk. Like, kids calling Santa, pimps who think they are calling their out-of-line-hoes, and drunk teenagers. It’s a laugh.)
So, beyond some (hopefully) tiny internet leeching, (shh, no speakies), I will be off the grid.
UNTIL THEN, my dears. Wish us luck. We’re gonna need it.
Candy Cigarette, 1989, gelatin silver print
Untitled from “At Twelve” Series, gelatin silver print || Untitled from “At Twelve” Series, gelatin silver print
