After moving out of one place and into another, and then out again and back again into the same place, I have developed a true appreciation of knowing where my toothbrush is, and a perpetual aversion to cardboard boxes. While Sean & I crashed for the 8 day interim with a generous friend and a feline, our plants and processions were housed in a curb side truck. A mobile home of sorts that in the unpacking featured pizza & a multipurpose ice-filled tub enabling deliciously cold ciders and then deliciously cold feet.

The good news is that there has been much physical and emotional cleansing of property and the past, and by the time we need to move again, everything will fit into a small dingy and we can just sail away…