notes from the house of emptiness

Moving is nearly done. We are rippling with mover-type muscles, living like pioneer people up in the cottage with no internets or phone.

The old house is a mess of rolling dust balls, single shoes, broken lego, and to-be-donated junk (including the beer checkers. It is terrible to get tipsy and then find yourself with 26 shot glasses to wash).



The hamcat tore out a hamcat-shaped hole in the screen and ran away. Leif has been helping by working my cardio as an ankle-weight. Gavin has been helping by sneaking things out of the garbage piles and into his toy bins. Mike nearly fell out of the storage loft under a 50 lb trunk. But then the rain swept over the fields behind the house, the sun rose out of the ocean like a fiery plum, and our friends lent us their truck-packing services and eased our aching shoulders with a night of cards and homemade pizza and the new mango homebrew. Everything is kind of good.