Hating life ...
Pulled down curtains and curtain hanging paraphernalia in the kitchen, taken down photos and art, staging various pieces of the household for the packers, patching nail holes in the walls ...
The kitchen looks naked and grim. I'm in a pissy mood and am being inordinately annoyed at stubborn screws and recalcitrant hardware. Cursing like a sailor when things get balky. Wish I felt better about this, but I'm not. I hate the idea of leaving this place.
HW has been working hard to keep a cheery face on, but I'm failing miserably.
I really just want to get drunk and scream obscenities at the universe.
We're running into folks we've know since we got here, chatting up neighbors, letting them know we're gone. There's a sense of disbelief in the Germans, some of whom have family ties to this area for about 2,000 years.
"Gypsies" they call us Americans. They can't comprehend the idea of massive relocation every few years.
Me either right now. Not liking it at all. This from a guy who's never really had a home, never stayed in one place for much more than a few years, who has really never had or wanted 'roots'. That seems to be changing.
HW and I have been here not quite six years, and they've been good years. Ther've been shitty times, yeah, but all together, it's been a wonderful time and living has been good. I simply can't imagine that Frederick, MD, -- as nice as it seems to be, as near as we can tell from the Intarwebs -- is going to be as good to us as Pressath has ...
Where's the whisky?