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Friday, December 10, 2021

 My heart is full.

My bank account is empty.

But my heart is full and not just with chunks of poorly chewed bratwurst. I  had the help of plenty of folks over the last couple of weeks. I met with wonderful people on the road. And I saw many old friends.

Another thing that's full is my garage, filled with boxes of stuff I haven't seen in a couple of years. Last night, I attacked five boxes in haste, just to begin the process. I plan on a minimum of five boxes a day with more on the weekends, although working weekends will hamper that some.

After unpacking last night, I had two epiphanies -- they were in one of the smaller boxes: 1.) I have far too many pans. I have a pan problem. Just as I have a pen problem. Thankfully, no pun problems. None whatsoever. 2.) I unpacked two of my five typewriters and thought -- for a second (really an hour) -- now that I'm settling I could really use more typewriters. At one point I had 35-40 antique typewriters but sold them because they stink to move and they collect dust well.

Really, now that I'm settling, I could have more typewriters. But then I was reminded of the story of the Buddha, who told his students all they needed was a rice pot and a teacup. When a student asked, "What if you have visitors?" he replied, "Well course they will bring their own rice pot and teacup."

So, if you're going to visit my house -- I mean home -- please bring your own typewriter. And if you forget it when you leave, I promise I will take care of it. I will pet it and hug it and name it George.

Even though my home is uncontrolled chaos, somehow I'm going to bed feeling home and waking up feeling home.

And I know this is my last move because it took me two decades to get home.

Well, not the last.

At some point someone is going to move me to the graveyard. But I don't have to worry about that.

Peace and boxes and boxes of stuff unto all of you my brothers and sisters.

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