So they Loaded Up the Truck and they Moved to Michigeee.

Hullo, folks. No there has not been posting in quite a bit, mostly b/c T.O.C.E. and H.W.blahblah haven't put the interweb into our new home yet. H.W.blahblah has an excuse; he thinks that the interweb is a demon that must be summoned through occult machinations. But T.O.C.E. is just lazy. She shoulda called Comcast weeks ago. Thus, I am forced to blog at a coffeehouse. You have no clue how difficult it is to find a barista who speaks cat, especially in Western Michigan. This one's clientele features an evil-eyed dude in flip flops with two computers going and a Judy-the-Time/Life-Operator headpiece phone into which he only speaks Russian. No poop.

But T.O.C.E. and H.W.yaddayadda have been hard at work, unpacking boxes and buying new furniture, and you can really see the results. Note the warm, rich colors and how they've really taken advantage of the new apartment's high ceilings.


Hahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaa, just kidding. Like that would ever happen. This is for reals...

Here you see the new kitchen. Note how it is such a wreck that the whole room is sideways. Also note how you have to use the kitchen faucet to run the dishwarsher.

Here is the living room. Because H.W.bloopitybloop decided that the brown couch they've had for years would NEVER leave Iowa, this is all the living room furniture they currently own. If T.O.C.E. were resourceful, she would smoosh all that newspaper into some kind of a homesteaders couch. That's what the other bums do. Note that the box of records is filled to capacity. A few days after this was taken, the Idiot Twins found what they say is the world's coolest record store in the middle of nowhere and have since added, like 200 new discs to their collection. This is the place responsible for the fact that I've had to listen to Kraftwerk nonstop for the past six days...

Here I am, lookin' foiiiiiine as usual, gazing warily at the new filing system in the office, which should be used for blogging, but is now just a disco for wayward boxes and receipts. I knocked the whole thing over a few hours after this photog was taken. Gotta do my part.

And this is me, still shaking off the drugs from the move, looking annoyed on the back porch. There's a lot less birds here than at the old place, but there is a squirrel who, swear to Jeebus, does weird interpretive dance off a morning glory bush every day and, behind that fence, there's an amateur boxing ring. So at least there are soothing things to take my mind off the fact that I still bunk with these yahoos. Hurm. Wonder if there are any more of those cat travel drugs left...