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I prefer living alone in the woods: trees are non-judgmental,
and they won't abuse or betray you.

This Week at Grump Central

3 December 2022

With the year almost over, I find it hard to believe what 2022 has wrought, particularly the last few months. Here I am in a new home, after having sworn I'd never move again. Circumstances saw to it that I was wrong. Then again, by all rights I should have died by now—twice, no less—and yet here I am, defying the odds.

I gaze out across the very-nearly-refinished kitchen and wonder, why did I do that? I didn't really need to. Well, I did it because I could. And I enjoyed doing it, particularly since there was nothing to prevent me from finishing. So... now what? Honestly, I've no idea. I've almost depleted my budget, but even if I hadn't, there's nothing more I'd wish to do except build a deck, and since that's prohibited, I'm basically all done.

Now I find myself strangely adrift. I spend the bulk of my time pondering things, as opposed to doing things, and it's disconcerting. I've done some of the writing I've been threatening to do, with little impetus to continue. I've looked at the unruly heap of hobby supplies in the second bedroom closet, and simply sighed. I've glanced over some of my dioramas, and found myself entirely unmoved by them, with zero inclination to lift an X-Acto knife. Perhaps the urge will return in time; still, it's off-putting to be so indifferent.

Today's image is what my sunrises look like... for now, anyway. Pretty soon a three-story condo will completely blot out this view, as well as that of the sunset. By then my bedroom blinds will remain forever closed, as there will be two dozen new residents peering straight down at my home from their balconies, which will be closer than the trailers to either side of me. Welcome to Purgatory.

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