Moving. Is. The. Literal. Worst. Though, honestly,I shouldn’t be complaining, my magnificent family made my move a delight (or at least a bearable experience), and now I’m mostly settled in in Brooklyn, Prospect Heights, for all those interested in stalking me, and trying to get myself back on track, you know, life wise. Cadfael is great, too, by the way, for those playing along at home, he seems to have taken to Brooklyn like, well, a hipster….
But the most important thing is, DID I BRING MY SEWING MACHINE? Is that some sort of sick joke? Of COURSE I did. Honestly that was the most important thing I brought, along with all my other sewing stuff. Did I bring all the fabric? Bahahaha, no. There isn’t enough room in this whole city for all that. And frankly, it’s quite a shock to the system to become aware of just how little storage space there is here on this ridiculous island. Or a I on a peninsula now? I honestly have no idea. Please don’t tell me. I don’t care.
At any rate, my soviet propaganda posters are all hung, my diploma is there looking smug as ever, my books sit calmly in their bookcase all literary and everything, so there you are. And I’ve even made an item! I can’t show it to you right now, but rest assured, I already impressed QUITE a few hipsters in Williamsberg (which was surprisingly devoid of colonial information) with my homemaid goodness. Take THAT, greasy people!
At any rate, I’m back in business, baby, and ready to sew. Anyone else a sewer in New York? Want to hang out? I promise I’m halfway decent!