Greetings from a hidden-away house in Asheville! Marshall and I have officially moved in - Lori was nice enough to clear out a closet and some drawers for us, so I'm no longer living out of a suitcase, which is a thrilling change of pace. This house is totally adorable, and the dog we're watching is even moreso. Her name is Isabelle, but we tend to call her "Belly," or "babygirl," or "sweet thing," or "Bellykins," or "Shorty Doo-Wop," or "Girly-Q." Yes, we are being those kind of obnoxious pet people, and it's keeping us surprisingly busy. Sometimes, Belly's friend Boudreaux comes over, too, and that dog is some sort of crazy. He breaks through windows and tries to run away when he's left on his own for even an hour or so, and so we've got to keep a careful watch on that one. Belly's way-chill, though, and doesn't even bark. Needless to say, we love her and will miss her terribly when it's time to move out.
But that's not for nearly a month! So mostly, after a long, tiring move-in process, we've been kicking back around the house. Last night, Robert came over, and we made sandwiches and drank on the back porch and watched a Marshallmetary and a really campy episode of Xena: Warrior Princess. Marshall had never seen the show before, and I'm scared to ask what she thought, because Xena's one of my favorite things to ever run on television. Oh, wait, except I just sucked up my courage and asked her, and she did, in fact, like Xena, so that's a huge relief. We're going to watch some Golden Girls later. I almsot typed "olden Girls," which would be appropriate but inaccurate. Thank god for Backspace, eh?
Jason called today. Awful timing, as always: he called just as I was stepping out of the shower, and Marshall picked up. I don't think he'll call again, as I asked him not to, but one never can be sure with that boy. I told him I wanted to keep some semblance of control after what happened, and he understood and apologized and let me go, but I'm still feeling really strange after that. Nothing Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire can't cure, though! I'm savoring the series this time around, since it's the last time I'll read through it and be able to speculate on how the story ends. Even still, once I'm through it, I can start on the mountain of cheap, intriguing books I brought down with me. And I can raid Lori's bookshelves, since she seems to own every book I've ever meant to read but neglected to buy. Housesitting for lit professors is pretty nice work, I've decided.
Marshall's sitting right next to me, editing videos, and Belly's conked-out on the floor in front of the fan, and we're all sweaty as all-get-out. A storm's coming through, from the sounds of the thunder, and I can't wait to go out into it, barefoot and wearing one of my favorite twirly-skirts, leaving wet footprints all along the driveway. Here's hoping for a fantastic evening, yeah?
But that's not for nearly a month! So mostly, after a long, tiring move-in process, we've been kicking back around the house. Last night, Robert came over, and we made sandwiches and drank on the back porch and watched a Marshallmetary and a really campy episode of Xena: Warrior Princess. Marshall had never seen the show before, and I'm scared to ask what she thought, because Xena's one of my favorite things to ever run on television. Oh, wait, except I just sucked up my courage and asked her, and she did, in fact, like Xena, so that's a huge relief. We're going to watch some Golden Girls later. I almsot typed "olden Girls," which would be appropriate but inaccurate. Thank god for Backspace, eh?
Jason called today. Awful timing, as always: he called just as I was stepping out of the shower, and Marshall picked up. I don't think he'll call again, as I asked him not to, but one never can be sure with that boy. I told him I wanted to keep some semblance of control after what happened, and he understood and apologized and let me go, but I'm still feeling really strange after that. Nothing Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire can't cure, though! I'm savoring the series this time around, since it's the last time I'll read through it and be able to speculate on how the story ends. Even still, once I'm through it, I can start on the mountain of cheap, intriguing books I brought down with me. And I can raid Lori's bookshelves, since she seems to own every book I've ever meant to read but neglected to buy. Housesitting for lit professors is pretty nice work, I've decided.
Marshall's sitting right next to me, editing videos, and Belly's conked-out on the floor in front of the fan, and we're all sweaty as all-get-out. A storm's coming through, from the sounds of the thunder, and I can't wait to go out into it, barefoot and wearing one of my favorite twirly-skirts, leaving wet footprints all along the driveway. Here's hoping for a fantastic evening, yeah?
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