A strange thought today:
Simplicity is finally starting to relax after the move. There she is, sleeping in the early evening, purring when she's petted, yawning and stretching. I said to her, "I'm not moving you again. You'll grow old and die in this house."
And then I felt tears come to my eyes. And in a few moments I realized that I was sad not for the cat, but for me. I fully expect to move again, so it's not that. But I am on that side of my life, now, where the plans are at least in part about where I'll be when I stop making plans.
How odd, how beautiful, how sad.
Of course, it is worth noting that I am melancholy to begin with. My Luther is more than six hours away! Yuck. Got to fix that.
The house is marvelous, yadda yadda. More later.