Moving bites. It sucks. It’s a bitch. It’s hell. The best part of moving is when it’s over, which, fortunately, it almost is. The garage needs to be put in order. There is a stack of boxes in the basement that need to be organized in the spare bedroom down there. The boys’ room, while having all the furniture set up, has boxes of clothes and toys that need to be put away. But for the most part, the place is set up. And, as the folks who came out to play poker last Friday can attest, it’s a beautiful house. The outside needs new siding, or at least new paint, but the inside is wonderful and the pool area very nice. Likewise the bar downstairs where we will put the tournament-type poker table once we get one. (Something like this. Note the reasonable price and the unreasonable shipping charge.) I need to shock the pool and then clean the bottom, but it’s almost ready to go too. And trust me, unless you’ve dealt with one, you wouldn’t believe the crap that goes in an outdoor pool on a daily basis. I’m not talking debris – I’m talking the chemicals to keep it usable.
So that’s been the bulk of my time. I was also in somewhat of a writing funk for a variety of reasons. It happens every now and then; nothing to worry about. But there is plenty to talk about. And with luck, I’ll start talking about it again.