There's no place like home

Almost everything I own is now stacked in a storage unit in Dutchess County, NY, safely tucked behind a door like these. Mrs. Peel (my feline companion in all adventures) is with me with her necessaries, and I have a few things for the summer, clothes and music and such, as I planned. I also have a lone vacuum cleaner attachment, and a few other things I did not plan on keeping with me all summer, while somewhere in the unit is the tin of Yorkshire Gold loose tea that I wanted, nay, needed! to have with me. Clearly, there was some last-minute frenzied flinging from my hand into any open bin. But, as I am not settling into my own place till September, I will have forgotten all about that tea by the time I see it again. It will then be like unto a gift from the gods.

Even more like such a gift is the help given me by magnificent friends and family who hauled boxes, levitated a piano, and fit everything securely, first into the U-Haul truck, and then into the storage space. Nevertheless, the move was exhausting. Several days passed before I was able to walk upright and speak in complete sentences, although I was inspired to squeak a surprised "eek!" on the first night away from the city. That same inspiration brought Mrs. P-Stands-for-Predator snaking, bloody-minded, out from under the bed. The thing got away, for which we are truly grateful (well, maybe not Mrs. Peel), and sleep since then has been deep and dreamy. I'm feeling better now. We're both exploring the territory. She has a new cat toy, and I've got the Grail: a library card in a new town.

Honey, we're home.