oh. how nice.
Oh shit. My stuff’s here.
Uncle B and I were standing on the shingle watching an indigo snowsquall tear through a red sunset over the English Channel when the movers called.
(NO I didn’t have my goddamn camera. He popped off a couple of shots with a pocket camera; I’ll fish it out of the back of the car tomorrow and see what he got).
The movers want to know what part of it I’d like them to deliver to the house and what part to put into storage right away. Honest to crap, that’s like buying a 30-ton load of horse manure and deciding which shit you’d like now and which shit to save for later.
Oh, and Jill will obviously have to be burned.
January 5, 2009 — 8:54 pm
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