Crossing the Rubicon, figuratively or even when Caesar did it for real, never took as much deliberation as we two fools have. Maybe a fait accompli for everyone we’ve talked to about this, but we’ve finally decided to move to the UK. Nazma accepted the offer from her “smallish” concern, and now we have 3 months of confession, wrap-up, and final laughter before taking the plunge. Tentative plan: leave work by early March, gone by early April for a couple of months on the road, then settle in central London in mid-to-late June.

This is likely all old news by now, since you are probably reading this sometime in early March. No way we’re letting the cat out of the bag before we let our workplaces know. Nothing like a pink slip to throw a wrench in the works (or, funnily enough, move up our departure).