For the first time in several days, I did not spend the immediate four hours after work at the new house. Doing so afforded me the following learning experiences:
The wine store remains out of stock on the Swiss white I hunger for since a teen, grown on the shores of Lake Geneva and dry as sandpaper.
I shall dearly miss our current abode, as despite transitory challenges f the neighborhood’s fortunes, it truly is the only home I’ve ever loved. Restoring the new place in the manner of a 1920s take on an 1880s stately home is clearly not something I have the stomach for. Goodbye, box beams.
I, personally, employ flexible and polar definitions of the terms “east” and “west.”
A neighbor at the apartment has a kindly open wifi node.
Love is a burning thing.
Our old telephone number, promised to be reactivated by today, remains disco.