Save Me, Sweet Baby Jesus, from Moving!

If you ever really want to curse someone, “May you have to move” would be a good one.

I’m moving from my little wild paradise, where I get to see things like this …

gray foxes
red foxes
whitetail deer
wild turkeys
raccoons

and even this and this and this

all photographed right in my own back yard, not to mention this and this just a short stroll away …

… to a place in the city.

It’s a nice place, in the historic section of a historic eastern city (for instance, the bronze plaque on the front of my building dates the structure from 1824), plus there’s a statue of Larry the Christian Indian a half-block away (more about him later, I think) and a boatload of historic events and attractions, and I’m happy to be here.

But moving!

Moving everything you own, using a small pickup, with not much help, and to the third floor, up a narrow staircase!

Oh, please, never again!

_______________

BTW, that’s also why blog output has been limited lately. I’ll be back on the job soon, I promise.

— Meanwhile, do YOU have a recent moving story?

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