I got hit yesterday. The monster reared its ugly head once again. It happened in the fourth inning. It came with no warning, as it always does, with no rhyme or reason. But the feeling was overwhelming. I walked over the the concession stand that Robin was working and told her. “It’s time for us to go. The wanderlust monster bit me again.” Fortunately there is only one more game and then the final inventory the next day. And then our commitment is over. It time for me to leave. I have no control over this gypsy genetics of mine. The job is great. The co-workers and acquaintances we have made couldn’t be better. The weather is sublime. We shall return. But the time has come for me to move on. And Robin will follow like the good trooper she is. On Saturday, we head out.