So, the support for the eventual and heart-wrenching move to my wife’s place of birth has been… well, lackluster. It’s not that people don’t care, it’s that they are wondering just what the hell I’m going to do with myself in such a place.

Well, as I recently told my wife, there’s nobody on this earth that hasn’t thought about that more than I. Seriously.

At least we already have a favorite pub to drink in. And there’s this great company that allows nonstop person delivery back to politismos. And I always still have this. And this. And this. And, let’s not forget one of my favorite pastimes.

But, yeah, it might suck. Thanks. I got it. But, I’m actually looking forward to it, in a weird way. I’d love a yard. And a garage. And, perhaps, room to swing a hammer. But it’s not forever. It’s not forever, right honey?

Aside from being in the middle of the country, there are other drawbacks. It’s hot there. It’s slow. It’s red. It’s the middle of the country. There’s a lot of wood paneling there. It’s the middle of the country. It’s the middle… ok, so the potential is there, but slight. Did I mention we already have a favorite pub?

In other news, I have an air conditioner, new (non-leaking) doors to my roof, and a new closet to hide said AC in. So that’s a plus. Of course, I have to now pay for it. And we’re $26 overdrawn. And we still don’t have a deck. But, hey, there’s still tequila. And I hear they sell it in the middle of the country, too. In bulk. That’s a plus.

Mmmm, tequila.