I am in that seventh circle of Hell known as MOVING HOUSE, up to my eyeballs in half-filled boxes, too many books to count, dust bunnies, bubble wrap, tchotchkes, and the remaining assorted detritus of a life. Good grief, moving is just gutting, isn't it? All your earthly possessions reduced to a motley collection of cardboard boxes, crumpled newspaper, blanket-swaddled furniture?
Anyway, all of this is to say that I haven't dropped off the face of the earth, or been swallowed alive by some flesh-eating giant, or even fainted away in the sudden summer heat. It's just that while packing I've just been eating cereal or completely mediocre takeout for dinner instead of cooking lovely things (and finally the newspapers are full of good stuff again, too) to tell you about.
The good news is twofold: first of all, the move is this weekend. Second of all, while my new apartment may be smaller than the old one, my new kitchen is glorious and I cannot wait to get cooking in there. Maybe even Sunday night? That may be ambitious, but I promise you it will be soon. Ooh, ooh, there's a third thing, too! My camera is apparently on its way back to me, too, released from the dungeons of the Nikon repair service offices. Glory be, I can't even stand the suspense. Stay tuned, lovely readers.
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