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Remember me? I used to have a blog..

This house moving stuff is properly stressful…

We’ve been in a month and I still don’t feel like I’m home in most of the house. I seem to be caught in this treacle-y time warp where I can function on a day to day basis, but I am occasionally overcome by claustrophobia and go around muttering to myself and filing things in odd places.

I’ve been struggling to find bits of the house that I want to show you…it’s really quite soul destroying.

I’ve been clearing out various things, and found this joke from my dad,

An old gentleman lived alone in New Jersey . He wanted to plant his annual tomato garden, but it was very difficult work, as the ground was hard. His only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:
Dear Vincent,
I am feeling pretty sad because it looks like I won’t be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I’m just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. I know if you were here my troubles would be over. I know you would be happy to dig the plot for me, like in the old days.
Love,
Papa
A few days later he received a letter from his son.
Dear Papa,
Don’t dig up that garden.
That’s where the bodies are buried.
Love, Vinnie
At 4 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left.. That same day the old man received another letter from his son.
Dear Papa,
Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That’s the best I could do under the circumstances.
Love you,
Vinnie
It makes me feel a bit better somehow…
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