Old Man In A Hurry

This new hovel ain’t quite home. And it ain’t going to be. See, this is move one of two. And true to the masterplan, we left eighty precent of possessions behind and have appointed this new pad with some low rent fittings fit to be thrown away two or three years hence.

Kept a smidgeon of art, music, books, and a few real world real wood knicks and knacks, and but for a few things sentimental, we’re now as streamlined as a Swiss Pocket Knife.

We went all mid-west mid-brow in new purchases. Mid-Century Modern mostly, with an accent on accent pieces. We didn’t skimp, but it was a far cry from,’come high, or stay home.”

We did buck up the bedroom as to better appoint the new mattress trend as SNZ has decided to ride that wave. It’s all a snooze to me, but so be.

The second bedroom in this flat is now my office. And I’m doing it up in out of the box Allen wrench DIY industrial. Black and gray and articulated lamp cold metal. I need to chill and write a book.

Unpacked boxes still abound. And all the books are housed in basement storage. And the old dog loves this new. And given the holidays, we will continue to spend to trick the hearth out. But come the New Year, austerity kicks in. Cause, I’m an old man in a hurry, and can’t wait for move two. To return home.


I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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