I’ve never met anyone who retired to the middle of nowhere who wasn’t back near a city within 5 years because someone’s health took a turn. That includes my mother who dreamed of living in a small coast town all her life an did so after retiring, but my step-father’s diagnosis of parkinson’s cut that short.
Could we swap to funions? Cold onion rings are gross and hot onion rings seem like a real problem (in context).
My 50s house still has a glass brick window facing the driveway. It’s a great silhouette backdrop, if I leave the workbench light on.
Lemmings fear and respect the owl.
That’s a #7 from Sandwich With A Pretty Big Pickle In It
Classic BOGF sale.
Yeah its a weird feeling. A mix of relief that things sort of make sense, bewilderment that I’ve gone decades wearing masks and stimming without realizing it, frustration, trepidation, other SAT words. Plus some suspicions about other kids I grew up with…