I didn't get down to Connecticut today to sign my lease and take possession of the New Nexus of Hate. I wasn't going to travel until I had a positive confirmation that the papers would be ready for me to sign; that word didn't come until 3:30 this afternoon, an hour and a half later than my drop-dead point. That's not a terrible break, given the fact that it has rained all day over the entirety of New England.
If there was ever any doubt that my time on the Seacoast has caused me to fully embrace my Irish (read: alcoholic) heritage, it was unquestionably dispelled this afternoon. I consumed all the beer in my fridge last week, in anticipation of leaving here; I did not want to leave any behind, or transport any to the Armpit of New England. Thus it occurred to me this evening that I hadn't had a drink in six days - and that was a situation that had to be rectified. I'm fortunate to no longer be hearing the proverbial "WARNING: LIVER DETOXIFYING" ringing in my head.
For the eight plus-or-minus two people who read tfo on a regular basis, this thing may go dark for an extended period of time. Such a happening probably means I've gone underway, and I won't be posting again until we're moored in the Thames River.