It's official.

He told his work, I told mine.  We'll tell the family on the weekend.

We're casting aside the sea anchor of work and becoming (temporarily) jobless, homeless vagabonds.  Leaving dates are set (in a rubbery kind of way) and both of us are a wee bit nervous about saying goodbye to a regular paycheque for the foreseeable future.
 
Any departure is necessarily preceded by a goodbye, and this goodbye will take a long time.  We don't finish work until the end of June and then we intend to take a road trip to say goodbye to some of the places and people that matter.  We've lived in Queensland for a long time and it's a big state: the road trip only covers a little bit of it but it will still take a while.

Sometime around the end of August/beginningish of September we'll start pedaling, east to the sea with a little north-ish loop thrown in.  When we reach the ocean, we'll turn right and go as south as possible.  Why south?  Well, that should allow us to stay ahead of summer and behind winter; it's easy to navigate because all we need to do is keep the ocean on our left; and if you look at a globe it's obvious that South is downhill so of course the going will be easy. When we run out of South we'll follow the coast to the West and North. When we get to Adelaide, we'll catch our breath and figure out what happens next.

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In the meantime, life continues to happen.  Work has to be worked; houses have to be packed; stuff sold or given away; other stuff put into storage; more stuff returned to children to clog up their houses; bike stuff organised, repaired, or bought; weddings attended; farewells made.  Roger has to fill in some unsightly gaps on the map by riding his bike from Roma to Toowoomba, probably in little snippets throughout the ensuing months.  Covid and its attendant restrictions must be lived with and worked around.

D-day seems so far away, and yet I suspect it will arrive quicker than I think, and long before I'm ready.