Back In A Habit

It looks like it’s snowing, but it’s only needles drifting down from the pines. Everything around here is ready for some rain, even though it was a very damp spring and an exceedingly mild early summer. I am a mushroom, I can’t wait for the rains to come sweeping in. I’m most productive when the weather’s filthy.

Today’s big excitement was the arrival of the Clearance Couch. I hadn’t realized when I ordered it that it was a set, so I scored a huge unexpected bonus, and my living room no longer looks strange and empty. Miss B is incredibly sanguine over the new stuff in her space, but Odd Trundles treats any change–even a basket of laundry moved to a chair, for example–as a deadly threat to be barked into submission. Loudly. For a quarter-hour.


I guess it’s hard, being a Mighty Protector of the House and All. Right now the furry little knight is sleeping the sleep of the just and wiggly, tucked into the only clear spot on the office floor large enough to accommodate his newly-acquired girth. He has a habit of tucking his paws so he looks like a little dog sausage with a wrinkly face. Miss B has settled herself in the door, gazing fiercely down the hall. If the couch moves, or makes any menacing gesture, she’ll sound the alert and Odd will charge into battle, I’m sure.

I’m seeking to get back into the swing of regular blogging, which has sadly fallen by the wayside due to MOVING OMG. Can I just register that I am never, never moving again? If you want me out of this house, you will have to carry me kicking and screaming. NEVER AGAIN. Plus my brain has been a sieve lately, and I’ve had barely enough energy to crumple it up so I can squeeze something useful out of it. (Runny and nasty whey-colored stuff, but useful nonetheless. Ew.)

Also, having lost most of the old writing entries, I suppose it’s time to start with those again too, huh? There’s a recovery project going on, but it’s slow work, and I suppose I’ve forgotten a lot of the old entries anyway. That’s the great thing about age: you can simply change your mind and people just think you’re forgetful. No explanation needed!

Oh, Lord. From the noise and the way Odd Trundles just shuffled out of the room, I think the couch just twitched. Off I go to restore some version or order to the living room…

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Can I just register that I am never, never moving again?

Word. They have to get you out toes first, plus you arent the one doing the moving!


Ditto on the NEVER moving again. I’ve moved so many times since Hurricane Katrina, and each move has seemed harder and harder. Moving is a game for the very young or the rich (or both).


It didn’t occur to me until reading this post, but my RSS feed has all of your posts since May 8, 2007 and then a couple dozen labeled as May 7, 2007.

I could easily copy and paste them into a google doc and send it to you, so if there are any you don’t have access to and would like feel free to let me know. Even pasting every single one into a google doc wouldn’t be more than a weekend project, I suspect. And I would be more than happy to do it, if you want them. 🙂