First Monday

This’ll be the first weekday in our new digs. Margaret plans to go to a local cafe to work this morning; I’ll stay here with the dogs, who are still very anxious about having moved. I’ll try to make some headway on sermon and essay while at home. Then, later in the day, one or both of us will go back to James Street to advance the cause of emptying and tidying the residuum of our goods. Of course, this is the gruelling stage, not quite the ‘Forget it, we’ll burn it all’ phase, but is still the ‘I’d hate to bin this, and then find occasion to wish I’d kept it’ phase — as I observed on BlueSky yesterday:

Two days ago I bid a fond (not really ‘fond’) farewell to two lengths of cat-5 cable, and pondered the long-ago days when it was a vital necessity.
Yesterday I realised that the only way to connect the internet to the vintage 2011 television we’re using is…

Ah, liminality…

For the time being I’m not running, though I may change that as soon as tomorrow. The trips to and from James Street take a lot out of me, though, and I have intervals of hobbling around with flare-ups of the fasciitis.

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