The Great Exodus (of my house)

Well folks, my house will become a ghost town by the middle of next month. As I have written about recently, my sister (and her little family) were set to move out of the house. Well, it's official - they're gone. They took all of the shampoos and body washes. My roommate, who lived in the camper right outside? He's gone, too. I got my exercise in by helping him move everything up to the second story of some apartment complex. Now I won't have to hear him coughing outside my window at 6 A.M., or be able to exchange ideas with him serendipitously.

The dogs are gone, but they've already left their mark - hairs upon hairs littered about the house, and the stench imprinted onto the couches. Needless to say, we are getting new sofas when we move.

A Tour of their Apartment

Last night I slept over at my sister and thems' place, about a thirty minute drive from Roseburg. Their new home is four stories tall; most of the building is just stairs.

My sister made omelettes with bacon in them for breakfast this morning. I poured Taco Bell sauce all over mine.

I was advised not to drink the water from the sink, because it had floaty bits in it, and most of the time came out orange.

Last night, I did some theory-crafting and ministered to them on the first floor.

This morning, I drank too much caffeine (how prone to excess I am!) and became sick.

During my visit, I got a good twenty- or thirty-minute walk in. It's a little bijou town, so I basically spanned most of it. It was new for me, as I've only ever been through that town on the bus, back when I used to ride the bus around the county and chitchat with random strangers for fun. Halfway through my saunter, I began to kick myself - it dawned on me that I had worn my *outside* slippers which I had just gotten for Christmas. They made it difficult to walk, and I had to amble around all slow-like.

The damage is done - the code of honor - the very laws of the universe - say that, once you wear a pair of slippers outdoors, they undergo an irreversible transformation. They become (*gasp*) - outside slippers. Well, they're a notch above the run-of-the mill footwear in the coziness department, so I guess maybe this isn't such a tragedy after all. Just means I need to get a new pair of house shoes. Maybe I'll get a nice robe to go with it. Then, I will complete the ultimate trifecta - pajamas, slippers, and robe. All will be well, and all of the kingdoms of the seven seas will live in harmony again.