We got moved out of the house, on time, with most of our sanity intact. Whether we get our security deposit back remains to be seen - a college friend of mine was fond of saying "the security deposit is just the fee you pay for the privilege of losing your security deposit" - but we're out, in our temporary habitat, and all our stuff currently resides in 300 square feet of storage.
Next: figure out how much taxes are going to hurt.
This week I am trying to finish moving all our stuff out of our old house before our lease expires. It's going to be quite the race. This weekend I managed to get impressively sick, apparently as a result of drinking a cup of day-old coffee. This week will be hectic and expensive and I'm not looking forward to it at all.
Unless I have my dates hopelessly mixed up, eviscerati.org will go offline at some point tomorrow as prgmr.com does some important infrastructure engineering. Assuming everything goes well, the site will come back up on its own, but "everything goes well" requires that I have everything configured properly on my end, so roll d100.
If everything does NOT go well I won't be able to do anything about it till tomorrow night at the earliest, and really probably not till the weekend. So let's hope I have configured everything properly!
So I started my new job on Monday. It's fine, but it comes with a few challenges. The biggest is that it's in Georgia and I'm in Montgomery, AL. So I've switched up from working out of a home office to commuting to work every day.
Here's the math for that:
Work starts at eight, it's an hour and a half drive, add an extra half hour for getting lost (like I did this morning). So: leave the house at six. So: get up at five.
Only a tiny sliver of light remains in the sky—the last vestige of sun seeping in through a tiny crack at the very edge of the horizon—and the shadow cast across David’s dreamscape is so deep it almost has weight. Something is pressing down, all around him, and he’s sure it’s more than the wind.
David tries once again to change the nature of the dream. He stares up at the ever-darkening sky, then holds out his hand, palm up, trying to imagine a tiny ball of light.
Such a small thing. Such a simple, small thing. I should be able to do this.