The move went about as smoothly as could be expected. All my shit is there, albeit not actually IN the house. But it's in the garage, so progress is now measured incrementally, by box. About all I can ask for. And only one real 'incident'...I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say it involved a bed post, a ceiling fan, and a ton of accident-proneness.
|Injuries in the picture are more hideous than they appear |
(and noses much smaller. Shaddup).
In the meantime, I'll share with you some things we saw over the weekend.
It took three drive by passes to determine what this was, and on the third, Roger's like "Shit! Do you know what that is? Go get a pic!" And I'm like "It's a fresh one!" And then I ran up and took the pic because we both knew that there's no way either of us was gonna let a photo op like that pass us by. We're just like that.
|Complete with freshly leaked innard juice. Bonus!!|
For those of you unfamiliar with them, that, my disquisitive friends, is a fuckin ARMADILLO! In Southern Illinois! Made it all the way from Texas or Arkansas or some such southern place only to meet it's demise on route 156 in Madison County.
This is obviously NOT a leaking armadillo, but Kid 2 looking stunning at pictures before her Senior Prom.
|My baby...*sniff, sniff*|
|Nice try, but God can see that, honey...|
Hang tight. I'll be back soon.