I had an odd epiphany last night… perhaps instead of law I should study psychology and medicine, and become a sex therapist. Could be interesting… There’s not as much hatred in the world for sex therapists as there is for lawyers.


Moving has been exhausting. Especially at this time of year, when my Martha Stewart side will emerge. Charity came over last night and helped me unpack some more boxes, and set up a few small Christmas things. Since my living room is a mess of boxes, and about to be a mess of books, I figured it would just be easier to stick to small stuff.

It’s amusing as I look around the townhouse… I feel like I did when I first moved out from Moms. Only this time the place looks like I just moved out from Moms. Quite the reversal back in time. Normal for someone under the age of 30, but odd to me.

So far everything has fared well in the moving process, the only thing that has suffered any damage was my antique Limoge china. Thankfully I only lost one desert plate and the top to the pitcher.

I have decided one thing though… I think I miss my garage almost as much as I miss my closet.


“Crazy he calls me
Sure, I’m crazy
Crazy in love, you see
Like the wind that shakes the bough
He moves me with a smile
The difficult I’ll do right now
The impossible will take a little while
I say I’ll care forever
And I mean forever
If I have to hold up the sky
Crazy he calls me
Sure, I’m crazy
Crazy in love am i” — Billie Holiday