Can any hell be more horrible than now and real? -James Douglas Morrison, Lament
I've been sorely neglecting this space for weeks now, and the traffic numbers reflect that fact. I apologize. My mind is elsewhere.
I live in a shambles of crates and boxes. There's no heat in our house. The frat boys are partying hard core in our neighborhood, gleefully anticipating our departure. Insurance companies need this, banks need that, mortgage providers want those, real estate agents want these. Inspections, utility services, address changes occupy my time. Soon I'll be throwing a car purchase into the mix, with the requisite trips to the MVA and further confrontations with insurance company types.
The bureaucracies are nearly sated, leaving the actual physical move, which is always unpleasant, but which will be accomplished by Saturday next week. Then, the purchase of rugs and curtains and curtain rods and new furnishings and the installation and hanging and positioning of such things.
Look for a housewarming party in May. I'll be wearing more than one lampshade that day.