To get to my house you left on Buttercup, right on Wild Cherry and right again on Violet Crescent. Be careful of the bunnies and chicks; I'll be skipping in clover when you come with Bambi.
I’m feeling assisted by gravity; it feels like its all downhill from here to life in the cabin. There’s less to do and what’s left to do involves no heavy lifting. Today’s duties are light.
Yesterday I arranged for two cords of firewood to be delivered. If it involves chopping, I’m up for it. It for sure involves stacking and I’m seriously up for that. I’ll be using wood as my primary source of heat. I’ve a proper wood stove (not an open fireplace) and ceiling fans for circulation.
Also yesterday I stocked up on chocolate, champagne, pasta and rice. Priorities, right? And I wrote to all my doctors to give them my change of address; I’ve only one more prescription to transfer.
My next book will be The Mover’s Diet or How Wrapping, Lifting, Carrying and Stress Can Create the Body You Want.
The table Dwight and Laura gave me is beautiful. It’s solid wood and rectangular. It’ll fit beautifully in my space — and I love that henceforth I’ll be dining at a table gifted to me by such dear friends. And I’m setting it up on Thanksgiving. How sweet is that?
Tomorrow I go to change my address at the Motor Vehicle Branch. That seems significant. It’s my primary ID document and I look forward to seeing my name linked and inked in plastic near the words “Gabriola Island.”
And I’m chuffed by the “0” in my postal code: V0R 1X5. That “0” is code for “rural.” The only better code is two central zeros.
Six more sleeps.