As of this morning, Marge and I are in our new home.
Still much, much to do, so I'll sign off after saying (a) awoke after a remarkable dream this morning, omen of a great creative phase ahead, I believe; (b) our kitties Tuco and Lizzie have settled into the new digs already, and seem quite comfy after what must have been the most stressful weeks of their isky-punkin lives; (c) drove to Marlboro this AM to continue the move of the stuff we simply couldn't get up here via the movers, and drove home in the first VT snowstorm of the year.
It was a hairy trip, going 35-45 tops on icy Interstate 91 and witnessing (in my rear-view mirror and then right in front of me) two very nasty accidents, both involving SUVs, while passing no less than four other recent collisions/rollovers en route. It was an arduous trip, and arriving at last at the 2nd Windsor exit and then home felt, well, like home -- with an urgency I didn't believe possible on our first day in our new house.
The night before the movers arrived (on the 28th), I pulled an all-nighter, packing like mad for the final stretch. The move itself was incredibly tough on the movers (in part because they used a tractor trailer instead of two trucks, as originally planned; the tractor trailer couldn't make it up our Windsor driveway due to the pitch of its angle uphill, so the four guys had to haul everything up the length of the driveway to the house) -- and on us. Whew.
Still, more to go, for me -- comics, books, and the vast studio library, which even after packing daily since mid-October, I'm still working my way through. It'll all be done by January 14th, do or die.
Speaking of which -- Saddam. Dead. It was the first news I heard on the radio en route south early this morning. President Bush would have played this for all it was worth two years ago; instead, he's forced to lay low, so hideously fucked this Mideast debacle of his making has become in the eyes of all [12/31 addendum: Bush and Laura Bush in fact spent part of the post-Saddam execution period in an armored vehicle, sheltered from a possible Texan twister; what's God saying to him now?]. When I stopped to gas up this AM during my drive to Marlboro, I went into the store to pay for my gas and a fellow customer missing a few teeth brayed, "Hey, they hung Saddam!" -- and everyone in the store went dead silent. Not a comment, just a few scowls -- no one was feeling jubilant, save for the fellow shy of enamel. He looked around, frowned, and darted out of the store after paying for his cigs, without another word.
OK, gotta run -- painting a room, unpacking, fried and yet amped as only a move can make one... now that we're on high-speed via Comcast, this blogging is a breeze, time-wise!
In case I don't make it on here tomorrow, Happy New Year, one and all!