Work, work, work
Eventually living in a new house will stop being novel. Somewhat inevitable, I'll guess. For now, though, everything is new, exciting, and requires cleaning, fixing, painting, mowing, moving, hanging, unpacking, sorting, or put into a trash bag.
That said, haven't had a lot of time to do much else. I'll be trying to take pictures and such as soon as possible (or, once I get things a little cleaner). For the time being, imagine a house of somewhat incongruous furniture, arranged strangely for any aesthetic but pure utility, amidst boxes, trash bags, laundry, and various pieces of hardware, wonderfully right where I left them.
Stay tuned, I guess.
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