Tomorrow, once again, I am moving. (Or re-moving, I suppose.) With dusty boxes of miscellany cluttering the floor of my childhood bedroom, the thermometer reading -9 in the mornings, an ancient and loyal pup slumbering quietly in the next room, and Jake Weller nervously imagining the heaps of gaudy kitsch about to descend upon his thus-far minimalistic existence, I am a little stressed.
Good thing Erin gave me worry dolls for Christmas. BIG ONES.
Here is a cat-like-description of how I am feeling, of late. Thanks to Suzanne. “I had a most productive morning,” she writes.
Meet you in Huntingdon, oh sweet bros of mine.
(And happy birthday to two great Moms! Both of whom are inordinately cat-blog-supportive.)