Oslo People

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So, I heard back from the Oslo people.

They're not interested in my anymore. I guess I don't jive with what they want. Which is cool, I guess. I appreciated the time they spent with me. Whatever, I am awesome and they're missing out, the fools!

And, secretly, I am relieved.

I didn't really want to move to Oslo. Although, I would have if I'd gotten the job. But the logistics of it would have been crazy. I mean, there's only so much shit you can take over with you. And, a house is definitely not on that list. Nor is a washer and dryer or a fridge.

Normally, I'm all for purging junk and things from your life but this would have been tough. Not because I'm attached to it, but because of the sheer magnitude of selling everything you own to move to another country.

I don't know how my sister does it all the time.

Maybe the key is never to have more than what can fill a studio apartment. I've got a three bedroom house full of crap. And a kid on the way.

I mean, think about that. If the kid had been born in Oslo, they never could have been President. And that's a career that is on the list for "daddy's little retirement plan".

Which is the middle name I am shooting for since I can't have Ator the Fighting Eagle as a first name. Although that would make for a heck of a name plaque "President Ator the Fighting Eagle Daddy's Little Retirement Plan Goodson".

Maybe I should pitch it like that?

Anyway, no moving to Oslo and I can confess I wasn't too enamored with the idea now that my wife is Preggo. (Thanks Jackie).