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

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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