Let’s Pretend This Is A Vacation

My new home comes with 137 rooms. Go big or go home I say.

And so dear readers, when last we chatted I was rambling on about sad this and sad that, and how my wee fuzzball Elliot was actually a nap-hole who would drain you of your anti-naparticles if you got beyond the nap-event horizon1.

Trust me, it all made sense in my head when I wrote it. Perhaps a combination of sleep deprivation, dry wall dust, and fumes from drying wall mud can be blamed. Or perhaps I’m just insane. I’ll leave that to you to decide2.

Regardless, I’m sure my posts will be all on the up and up now as I’ve officially moved out of my condo while the reconstruction takes place. I’m not exactly sure how long I’m going to be in a hotel, other than to say that this particular hotel only has room for me until Monday. I’m pretty confident that the reconstruction is going to take longer than the three business days that take us from now until then, so I have no idea where my next temporary home will be.

It’s very weird being in a hotel room when one isn’t travelling for work or for fun. It’s even weirder when I can look out the window and see the same view from my hotel room that I can from my condo. The upside to moving just across the street is that it’s completely unnecessary to bring a lot of stuff. The downside is that I’m so close to home, and yet I am not home.

So close, yet so far away.

Elliot is not amused with the mess.

Anyway, I’m trying to convince myself that this is some sort of vacation so that being so close yet so far doesn’t feel as weird and awkward and uncomfortable as it does right now. I’m also trying to remember that when this is all said and done, my condo is going to be essentially all sparkly and new.

Still, I can’t help but feel that this is a very weird situation.

I guess that’s why there’s scotch.

Hmm, I just realized that I didn’t bring any scotch with me. Clearly I’m going to have to go back home tomorrow to remedy this situation.

And that, dear readers, is the take home message of this post: A house just isn’t a home if it doesn’t have scotch3. You should write that down.


1 If that made any sense then I say to you either: 1) congratulations you are insane, or 2) thank you for reading my blog as religiously as you do.

2 If I know me like I think I know me, I’d opt for insane.

3 Maybe this is more of a moral than a take home message. I was never good with semantics.


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