Waiting for the Other Shoe...
...to drop.
Things are moving along fairly nicely. Work's gone well, though I haven't had any luck finding a new job, mostly because I've been so busy with work and the Rust Belt and moving. The Rust Belt was quite fun. Moving's going reasonably well, though we still have no offers of help in moving when we get the truck (bad weekend for everyone, I know). When she's not been tired, Zoey's been a joy to be around. The computer's still messed up, but it's not fried or anything. Golden apple nominee feels pretty good. Book should be out fairly soon, though no word on when yet (still ahead of schedule on that).
All of this together, though, makes me think, in true Abbott fashion: "When's it all going to go wrong?" Since things are fairly smooth right now, I expect it to collapse like the house of cards it always is.
As to the computer, I may just be reloading Windows and starting over, which isn't tragic, but is annoying. The email's down to just a trickle from anyone, so I don't know if it's because of my "spam" status or if everyone's just quit talking to me. We'll see how all of that goes.
If you can't help move on the 14th, can you help next weekend? There's always stuff to get over there before the big move, after all. If you can help on the 14th, can you let us know? So far, we've got nobody, and I've even gotten no reply from the Dayton Slam people (which is really no surprise).
Linc, we're trying to figure out about the RSVP for the wedding on the 15th. It's me for sure, Amy if we can get grandma to babysit, which we probably can.
Someone over a few blocks into the ghetto section of our current neighborhood has spent a few hundred dollars on the professional kind of fireworks ("fi-gurks") and is shooting them off nightly. Last night was 9:30 until 11:15. You know, when I'm trying to get my daughter to sleep at 9? I took the trash out last night after Zoey finally went to sleep, and when one went off with a big bang, I swore much louder than usual. I'm sure my neighbors love the display, but they don't have a two-year-old to put to bed.
Lots of dreams lately. In each one of them, everything goes wrong, and I'm left with a sense of foreboding. I only remember a little anymore, but it's all about everything falling apart. My subconscious expects it, I'm telling you.
Enough for now. Let me know if you've had trouble with emailing me or anything. Hell, let me know if there's a reason I've not heard from any of you lately. Maybe I've offended you when I didn't mean to?
Things are moving along fairly nicely. Work's gone well, though I haven't had any luck finding a new job, mostly because I've been so busy with work and the Rust Belt and moving. The Rust Belt was quite fun. Moving's going reasonably well, though we still have no offers of help in moving when we get the truck (bad weekend for everyone, I know). When she's not been tired, Zoey's been a joy to be around. The computer's still messed up, but it's not fried or anything. Golden apple nominee feels pretty good. Book should be out fairly soon, though no word on when yet (still ahead of schedule on that).
All of this together, though, makes me think, in true Abbott fashion: "When's it all going to go wrong?" Since things are fairly smooth right now, I expect it to collapse like the house of cards it always is.
As to the computer, I may just be reloading Windows and starting over, which isn't tragic, but is annoying. The email's down to just a trickle from anyone, so I don't know if it's because of my "spam" status or if everyone's just quit talking to me. We'll see how all of that goes.
If you can't help move on the 14th, can you help next weekend? There's always stuff to get over there before the big move, after all. If you can help on the 14th, can you let us know? So far, we've got nobody, and I've even gotten no reply from the Dayton Slam people (which is really no surprise).
Linc, we're trying to figure out about the RSVP for the wedding on the 15th. It's me for sure, Amy if we can get grandma to babysit, which we probably can.
Someone over a few blocks into the ghetto section of our current neighborhood has spent a few hundred dollars on the professional kind of fireworks ("fi-gurks") and is shooting them off nightly. Last night was 9:30 until 11:15. You know, when I'm trying to get my daughter to sleep at 9? I took the trash out last night after Zoey finally went to sleep, and when one went off with a big bang, I swore much louder than usual. I'm sure my neighbors love the display, but they don't have a two-year-old to put to bed.
Lots of dreams lately. In each one of them, everything goes wrong, and I'm left with a sense of foreboding. I only remember a little anymore, but it's all about everything falling apart. My subconscious expects it, I'm telling you.
Enough for now. Let me know if you've had trouble with emailing me or anything. Hell, let me know if there's a reason I've not heard from any of you lately. Maybe I've offended you when I didn't mean to?