Going for the Gold

There was a dude who lived here a few years ago who moved onto the island and never left, for like, six years.

I kid you not.

He was relatively sane, too, which I could never understand.

I mean, I go long stretches, but six years? He left maybe 4 times in six years.

I'm in the middle of a long stretch right now.
12 weeks.

Twelve weeks of "Can you pick me up some milk, coffee, and um, a clothes dryer?"

I caught myself rocking back and forth today, staring into space.

It's time.

I'm not even in the running for a bronze.


I believe I now hold the title as She Who Never Leaves The Island. I've outlasted  them all. And it's only the beginning of November.