Posting will be light to nonexistent over the next several days, probably until middle of next week or so. Gonna be busier than the proverbial one-legged ma…uhhh, never mind about all that; somehow, that old line just don’t seem near as funny to me as it used to nowadays. Anyhoo, I’ll be moving house Sunday, leaving me with no real clue when I might get the trusty iMac all hooked up and running once more. The nice thing is, this new pad has an actual office in it—a spacious one, at that. So once I do get CF CentCom squared away and fully operational again I’ll have my desk set up in front of not one but two (2) windows, from whence I can gaze vacantly down the hilltop and off into the surrounding woods.
This new crib of mine is situated up on a respectable-sized hill, kinda next to and up behind my brother’s place, way out in the bushes and the weeds, as my anthropology prof in college liked to say. Kinda remote; kinda secluded; real damned quiet, except for when me and my brother get frisky on a Saturday afternoon and start popping off rounds of varying caliber, with the few scattered neighbors soon following our lead. Before very long, the whole area sounds a lot like downtown Beirut circa the early 80s or thereabouts, only with fewer casualties, negligible foreign-policy ramifications, and loads more fun.
I’n moving not a lot of stuff with a whole lot of help, as befits a newbie one-legged cripple, but I nevertheless anticipate much-o suckage; it’s just the nature of moving, therefore unavoidable. Once in and settled, though, it’s gonna be fantastic, I think. For one thing, I very much like the idea of being so much closer to my bro and his significant other. For another…well, I dunno. For most of my adult (HA!) existence, city life was the only life for me. But as I’ve gotten older I’ve lost all my previous fascination with urban living, until I’ve come to actively abhor it. The traffic, the expense, the overcrowding, the general hassle—no more for me, thanks. These days, I want to be just as far out in the sticks as I can get myself. That attitudinal volte-face kinda surprises me sometimes, and I have no real explanation for it. But, well, there it is.
I’ll return to the ol’ pop stand here quick as I’m able to, folks. As ever, your patience and kind attention is humbly appreciated. Who knows, maybe life in the boonies will mellow me out some at last, and Ye Olde CF Blogge will slowly shift its focus and tone, away from bilious screeds filled with hate and dire threats of grievous bodily injury against all and sundry, and towards more thoughtful essays involving soft-serve ice cream, the fluffiness of bunnies, and random cloud formations.
Stop laughing, it could happen.