I'm on the cusp of something I haven't had in a while.
Now my caustic friends would suggest that would be the ability to see my toes while standing straight up. To them, I respond "go to hell."
What awaits me is a permanent address.
By sheer luck, I stumbled into viewing a two-bedroom house in a quiet neighborhood about two blocks from my newspaper. It's clean, it has more amenities than I'm used to. And it has a little deck and big back yard which would allow me, in more amenable temperatures to grill a slew of entubed meats.
There will be enough available as I bought lunch for staffers at Lynn's Custom Meats and Catering today, where I found the emporium of sausage (my new autobiography title). Lynn's Custom Meats & Catering | Hayward, WI
Readers must understand the market for renting here is virtually impossible. Acquiring, I've been told, "nothing's open," "rentals spend three minutes on the market," and "you're shit out of luck."
I won't go into the details of how this happened, only to say that when daylight appears, one must rush toward it.
Some paperwork awaits me, some check signing, some moving -- but I'm close to having an address and a home again.
I'll alert you as the process continues and then when the weather turns, probably around July, I'll invite any and all to a party of the entubed (OK, now that's my new autobiography title).
Peace and a home unto you my brothers and sisters.