and I thought *my* house was bad.
my father and mother have more doodads and whatsits than anybody.
not to mention i had to ask earlier, uhhhh dad, is that 38 loaded?
needless to say, I have arrived in west virginia.
and it’s cold. not chilly. cold.
as in, morning frosts.
i do believe i heard myself saying the words “I’m going back to Texas.”
It doesn’t help that I am sleeping in a drafty old house built well over 100 years ago with 10 foot ceilings and its fair share of drafts and spirits.
But eh tis the season, right?
I just need to go shopping for a jogging suit and maybe swing by the local catholic church for some holy water and I’ll be just fine.
I think I am going into project mode. I am pondering doing a photo autobiography of my early life, basically going around town taking pictures of places I have memories of growing up.