If you've been starving for those heart-gladdening epiphanies that Bouphonia, in happier times, produced as effortlessly as victims of Blackwater Fever produce dark, reeking urine, you may consider this your lucky day.
Having conducted plenty of assiduous firsthand research, I'm now prepared to assert that moving is a soul-crushing torment far beyond anything M.G. Lewis dreamed up. Especially when it's raining. You heard it here first!
I've had no time to go online in the last couple of weeks, let alone to write anything that meets this blog's famously low standards for coherence and readability.
This should change very soon, in theory. The trickiest step - I hope - will be to get a decent DSL connection in the new place. From there, it'll be a simple matter of convincing myself that I have something worthwhile to say, and finding enough time to say it.
How hard could that be?