In Which I Am [Easily] Distracted

So, I know the two of you hypothetical readers have been fretting day and night about where I've been, but fret no more!  I did not fall down a well.  I have merely been tumbling through and down the rabbit hole of moving, stress, job insecurity, and a newly acquired relatively Hairy Roommate.

He had a rough first twenty-four hours.  If you were to ask the kitchen floor it would tell you that it does not even have hopes to ever regain its innocence.  But then, you know how much kitchen floors are all about hyperbole, so don't take it too seriously.  I, on the other hand, could do with not wiping up diarrhoeic leavings again any time soon.

Ah, hope springs eternal.

So, for all of you legions of imaginary friends out there, be of good cheer, for soon I will either leave a bunch of things and dust bunnies in our old apartment, or be fully moved into this one.

Or I will be fetal and completely immobilized on Thorazine in a lovely white facility somewhere.  I'm waiting for the Vegas odds to come in, but it's pretty much anyone's race at this point.

Tune in for updates!

(And be glad, at least I only talked about fecal matter briefly with you good, hypothetically slavering hypothetical readers.  We've been talking about it at Casa de Fan y Tigger pretty much incessantly for more than 36 hours!  It's a damn PARTY!)

Go with G__.

Pray for Mojo.