I have a move date.
I have a phone line.
I even have a phone! (Found in Mr. Box at the storage unit.)
Have had untold insanity with the phone/DSL people, the power and water people, and, well, everything. I’ve done every single thing you’re not supposed to do under Mercury Retrograde and, so far, the results do not disappoint. Although I’m sure much of this is just part of the natural chaos of moving.
Tomorrow, I sign paperwork in Burbank for a contract with Uncle Walt. I’m not counting this against the Mercury Rx because I’m literally “re-turning.”
Meanwhile, this is my new love, Miru.
He belongs to the people I’m staying with. It turns out T is no longer allergic to kitties, so they’ve taken in Miru from outside, where he was dumped by his asshole former owners who had him declawed. Miru has adopted me as his second mommy. We spend much time snorgling and cuddling. The Frenchman approves of the affair. I’ve even sent him pictures. Meanwhile, workers are using jackhammers to tear up E/T’s patio. I might be on a morphine drip by Thursday.