horseboykarl

Just the thought of al the work involved in moving makes me want to climb back in bed and forget about it. But Sean pointed out that any potential buyers aren’t going to want to see my shit lying around everywhere, so if we’re gonna do this, I’ve got to organise the stuff that’s accumulated. I’ve lived here . . . I think back . . . almost five years. Not heaps long, but with all the Rings stuff in the barn and the stuff in my workshop, there’s lots that needs doing.

So I’m up in the barn loft, sorting through the boxes of Tolkien crap that I put up here when I though Éomer was a symptom of my delusions. I’ve come a long way since then, had a lot of help with it too, I think with a smile. I miss Bernard all of a sudden, he’s so easy to talk to, I’d tell him how happy I am, finally.

Sean’s off at his own place, seeing to things, especially cleaning up after his plumbing problem. My house is definitely more of a issue than his, because I’ve been in it longer, but his isn’t in showing condition yet either. He said he’d be back this evening, but I hear a car in the yard, and yell for him.

“Sean! I’m in the barn.” ( I lean over the railing, waiting for him. )