It’s Saturday night, and according to the clock, forty-eight hours from now I’ll be getting ready to board the plane bound for Atlanta.
Where on earth did the time go?
Anyways, I’m getting stuff packed, washed, etc. I’m sorta paranoid about packing at the last minute. Because it’s an international flight, I have to be at the airport three hours before take-off. This means that I’ll have to be there about 5:20 P.M. or so. I’ve yet to figure out if I have anything that I need to claim, so right after this post, I’ll be checking into that.
Last night was great, same with Thursday night. Erin took me to a concert performed by the Johannesburg Philharmonic Orchestra, and according to South African tendency, the concert hall was powered by generator. The orchestra was phenomenal, the seating fantastic, the outdoors cold and the time extremely well spent.
Last night, a group of young adults (mind you, I was the baby of the bunch) went out to dinner. The picture that you see in yesterday’s post of Candy, myself and Dominique, is one of a few that I got to remember the time. The company was joyous, and the food (prawns, or shrimps, with the shells still on) was delicious.
People have certainly done well in making me feel at home. I’m excited to go home, yes, but I’ll certainly miss all of my friends here.
Well, I’d better be off. It’s almost eight and I’m actually feeling a bit bushed.