I made it to Irving (without dying or loosing anything). After the move, it has become extremely clear in my mind that I hate possessions. I hate owning things; things are indeed such a burden, and the monks do know best. But of course, as soon as you get comfortable again…you start aquiring things like a ravenous pack-rat with three teeth and a bit of indigestion. We like to have our things. 
We love our little comforts. Who really needs an ottoman? No, not an Ottoman-Turk (actually who does need one of those!?), but an ottoman (that’s what I call it) on which to gently and mildly and ever so graciously rest your tired and sore feet? And why did I find it so necessary, like a Gypsy Turtle, to pack literally every single possession of mine into that damn Penske and then go travelling at 75 mph across the desert? Why? because I’m a Bloch and because I paid for those things and because it made me feel like a big boy to be moving all my things and finally because (in a Gollum voice) they’re mine, precious! I am fairly certain that most people feel this way when they move: at first they hate that they own all of this stuff, then they move and they love it again. I need to become more detached, it’s one of my goals for this year. I think that it will probably not be easy. Does anyone have any small suggestions? Helpful hints?
I imagine that once I’m all moved then in I’ll be updating the Draught more frequently, but, seeing as I have no internet in the Old Mill and that I have so many important things to do, I’ll be updating the blog for the next two weeks ad hoc.
Cheers,
PHB
