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Sunday, April 15, 2012

7213 E. Fillmore...

So, I'm sitting here in the house I grew up in and it's the first time I've seen it empty in nearly 40 years, since we moved in back in 1974. The old place is looking a little beat up, now that it's empty. I guess I look a little more beat up too, 40 years later, once you strip me down to the bare bones. But like me, the house is still full of personality.

I opened all the windows and doors, which is also the first time this has been done since the Carter administration - the windows in the front living room still had tape on them from Dad sealing them shut back when I was still too young to legally consume alcohol. I always knew he preferred to keep the place all closed up so the cigarette smoke couldn't get out, but I never realized the extent of his obsession.

Three days later... All my stuff got moved in and the first thing I did was assemble my bed. This is necessary and my sole source of comfort for the next few days. All boxes are staged in the front room and I am moving and unloading as I see fit. It is a slow process, because "as I see fit" means glaring at the boxes menacingly, then making absolutely certain the cable is still working by watching some TV.  After a Thursday and Friday spent trying to figure out why I have no hot water or internet and looking for a cheap refrigerator, Saturday comes and I hang a hammock. This is after golf with Taggart and buying a lawnmower from a shady-looking individual at a self-storage facility on the way to the course. I ask the shady lawnmower salesman no questions, and he tells me no lies. This classic exchange costs me $40. I make absolutely certain the hammock works by repeatedly lying in it to nap in the beautiful afternoon after golf. I wander over to the little bar next door and introduce myself over beverages in the afternoon, then wander over to enjoy some good indie music that evening. I glare at the boxes as I pick my way through them on the way to bed.

Sunday comes and I go pick up a refrigerator from a miscreant in a bad neighborhood. It works and I am pleased - especially after cleaning the fridge. Nothing is more pleasing than a clean refrigerator. Except a hammock. So I test the hammock once again to make absolutely certain it is still in good working order. The boxes seem overwhelming, so I watch some more TV and re-test the hammock. I enjoy a scrumptious club sandwich from the little sports bar at the Inn next door and wonder if there is anything else I can do to ignore the boxes more efficiently.

Yes, I think to myself - I'll finish that blog. That will show them.

There is much work and much cleaning to be done. And then there are all those boxes. But all in all, it feels nice to be home again - we shall see how it all shakes out.

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