Administrivia: 07 June 2023

I have been sleeping in my own bed in a real apartment since Saturday and y’all, I don’t know what to do with myself.

We’re still ironing bits and pieces out, though it’s been whittled down by this point to one document that both the landlady and I have to sign. I suspect we’ll have that done by the end of the weekend if everything goes well. This is about the Salvation Army paying my landlady for deposit and first month, so it benefits her if we get it done. I’m going to try very hard not to be fussed. She’s had a rough year too. That’s her story to tell, but maybe that’s why we’ve come to this point. It’s this whole thing that really doesn’t belong here. I should write a book.

Nah. No I shouldn’t.

Never mind.

It’s basically this little wooded oasis in the middle of a city — or, more properly, its northwest edge — and if I told a local my address, just the street name, no house number, and then what my rent is, they’d be amazed. I’m like ten minutes from work, and that only because there are traffic lights between there and here. The trees muffle the worst of the noise. First night I was here I slept like a rock. It hasn’t been much different since.

Numbered among my near neighbors: more than half a dozen chickens, a rooster, two goats, some rabbits (quantity unknown), a pony, TWO DOGS (yellow Labs), and if I don’t watch it there’s gonna be a fucking partridge in a pear tree somewhere. Just you wait.

Work’s going well. Tomorrow will be a month I’ve been there. World goddamn record. I get to use my job to help people, which is really cool. The bizarre bit is that the woman who started the company got her start in Savannah, Georgia, where I’ve lived in the past and which just happens to be one of my favorite cities and my ass would be living there today, and so would the rest of me, if I could stand the heat, humidity, and fucking hurricanes. I love these little coincidences.

And we get free popcorn.

I have no idea why.


Wow. Speaking of world goddamn record. Hey? Scotland? Where are you? Used to be I could count on one of you fuckers visiting daily at least. Suddenly… poof. For days and days. But for some reason I am getting a ton of visits from London. The fuck’s in London? No, I know what’s in London. Don’t fucking tell me. That’s just ridiculous. You’re just random Londoners. Right?


Eh. I’ll never know. Might as well roll with it.


Oh hey. Got the big man’s autographed photo out of storage finally. All my stuff under one roof again. I am waiting for the landlady’s daughter, previous inhabitant of this place, to get the rest of her stuff out before I start deciding where to put my things. So I haven’t set him up yet. Yet.

(This is him signing it)

Rory McCann signing my autograph, October 2019


I cannot take my work home with me, it’s just the nature of the job and I don’t work remotely, so I need to find something better to do with my off-time than natter on social media. Not that I will stop nattering on social media. Just that I need to diversify. So that’s what I’m a-gonna do. So expect more here soon.