Hello Paramour

It feels like I just did this and that's perhaps because I just did.
Move, that is.
On the geological scale of time, living at the knob and tube is the equivalent of an ant fart. On the chronological scale of my life and my moves, I'll kick it up to grasshopper flatulence.
Hasn't even been three years since I settled into the old place where the kids who had lived there marked their growth spurts with boogers on the door frame. And now I'm out and in a new place. I'm looking for a uniform of some sort. Perhaps I'm an airline pilot or a too-old Marine, this move has come on so fast and furious.
I'm neither. It was just time and circumstance. Relocate to a new town, closer to the job. Much as I would have liked to drive 160 plus miles a day for another few years...
Plus it was getting along time to gather Thumper and make it a house I'd have to consult on colors once again.
And tongue in cheek, since I am so named in a certain legal proceeding, we named the place Paramour.
She's an old girl. Not as old as the knob and tube, but not too far off. She's a tad bigger but you couldn't film a Shining Big Wheel scene in her without someone getting their knees abused.
She's in a little better shape but still not perfect. A rainy morning today inspired the front gutter to do its best impersonation of the Horseshoe Falls on to the porch roof which of course spattered into the bedroom window, waking the cat up.
Not my idea of a wet dream is all the cat told me before she sandwiched herself between my face and my last source of oxygen.
Looks like I'll be cranking up my Home Depot frequent flyer miles.
And remind me to tell you about the move.

Bunny on Paramour.