My general recommendation is that one avoid moving to a new home in the rain. That said, the big movement came out okay over the weekend, and I am only slightly dead as a result.
Sarah, Lisa, Stan, Noah, my mom Reade, her husband John, and Paul all helped me move the vast majority of my stuff on Saturday. It went pretty quick — Lisa and Sarah packed books and kitchen stuff and I ran around lining up furniture and boxes so that we could make a minimum number of trips. I am extraordinarily grateful for all the help moving. Only the Keathlys and John hung around for pizza. (I think — I’m a little fuzzy about Saturday after the second trip)
Second and third doors on the right:
I have the nicest neighbors:
I made bacon right here on Sunday. Sunday has never been more holy than when frying delicious bacon. Interestingly, the fat from four strips is far too much fat for the cooking of three eggs.
I might just be the kind of heathen who has a whole cut up fryer chicken in the freezer alongside two kinds of veggie burgers.
The first thing that I put into the fridge was beer.
Every home needs a garbage room:
This is where the magic happens:
The living room, decorated in an Early Goodwill Bachelor style:
Nothing says class like a thirteen inch TV perched on top of an automotive subwoofer while connected to a brier patch of cables.
Another view of the bass drum coffee table and drum throne ottoman:
I may or may not be sleeping on this couch until I can assemble the futon. A slip cover may or may not happen. Your mileage may vary.
The view from the top: