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