Crib on the Borderlands

 

Chained to a rock at last. Fortunately, I don't see any eagles descending--at least not until the lender demands the monthly pound of flesh. We moved up (i.e., escaped) from the rental apartment, where the neighbors allow their dogs do their duty near the doorway, in the doorway, or on the stairs, to an almost-country manor. The wide open space begins on the other side of my back fence. The yard is small and the neighbors are too close, but they're not directly below my feet nor cheek by jowl with only paper-thin walls in between. We were already seeking a new abode (following the sale of the chateau) but the new roommates added to the joint below and the loud video games thundering on to three in the morning beneath our bedroom goaded us into accelerating the move. 

We had hoped to move two weeks earlier, but the repetitive demands from the lender and waiting on the seller and third parties to assemble their waterfowl into linear formation hindered our haste, shackled our swiftness, and delayed out dispatch. This may be the shortest move I've made since college. Although, the move from the rental in W town to the chateau was only a couple miles more. At least this move wasn't to another state or from one side of a large state to the other. Can we reside here with hopes of permanency? We had hoped that would be the case back at the beloved Chateau du Chat Gris, but after graduating 3 kids from the schools, including putting our youngest through the school system, to college, on a mission, and back to college, circumstances dictated a change of residence.

In many respects, that move across the state has been great--notwithstanding the squalid pad. My wife has made new friends--like she always does--and I've met more wonderful people. I like associating with people who are better than I am. One would think such association would help make me a better person, but apparently I'm content to benefit from their attitudinal largesse and magnanimity without fear of catching the malady myself. What can I say? Natural immunity, I guess.

I must think of a name for the new place. We were relieved of the little chat gris, so that option is gone. We are located on a border of sorts and the back fence is a stone wall. A not-too-distant mountain is visible out the back, and I've positioned my writing desk so that I can enjoy that view while slinging vowels and consonants in reckless abandon without fear of hitting anything in that direction. Mountain View Estate? Crib on the Borderlands? Fortress of Insufficient Solitude? Whatever handle I decide to hang on the place, it's still a move up from the former hood where a lady was murdered just across the street.

The new abode has sufficient rooms that I now have a dedicated writing room--that's a first. My wife insisted that I do this thing I do in isolation. Speculation leads me to believe that she doesn't appreciate my requests for her to do what she does more quietly and not to talk to me while I'm feeding my addiction. Although, it could be that having my writing desk with inspiration buddies openly displayed thereon constitutes a source of embarrassment for her. The more likely reason is that I and the desk are simply in the way, have been for many years, and she needs a break from us.

The writing desk was my office desk in my private practice. It has been scarred in several moves; it received new scratches and gouges in the move out of the hood--I blame those good folks who lent a hand but lacked love for the labor and the desk. The squalid pad had a room I could've used for a writing room, but we couldn't get the desk into it. When we moved into the new digs, we had to remove the door to get the desk into the room--and then it was tight squeeze. With any luck, I'll never have to move it out.

Instead of worrying about moving the desk, I'll direct my attention to the wonderful places we'll go, this desk and I, as we wrangle words and phrases from atoms alphabetical into adventures somewhat historical or construct elaborate tales with scenes unreal and fantastical. 

However, those adventures must wait a bit. I've got about dozen address changes I need to complete.