Just got my breakup letter from Posterous.
She says it's her, not me.
She really tried but still had not gotten over that Ning Thing.
I have until the end of April to move my stuff out, after which she is turning out the lights and moving to the big city of Twitterville.
There is sort of a poetic justice at work here, since she was never really that great with conversations requiring more than 140 characters in a row, unless she was talking about herself.
While it is always sad to lose a lover, we will always have Paris.
Fondly & Finally,
j.
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