Well, here we are, a month later and 2000 miles west of where I last typed. It's been a long, grueling process, acquiring boxes (thanks Diamond!), packing them, labeling them, watching other people move them, cleaning the apartment, loading the cats and various possessions into a car, driving for several days, waiting for the delivery truck, watching it being unloaded, unpacking all our belongings, and waiting for various pieces of furniture to be delivered so that I can finally quit sitting in dining room chairs--you shouldn't have to watch MMA while sitting in a dining room chair, man. I miss couches. Not my old couch, which sucked (quick tip for anyone moving into an apartment on anything other than the ground floor of a building: you don't need a sleeper sofa, no matter what your circumstances are), but couches in general. We haven't owned a couch for weeks, as the monstrous sleeper sofa we used to own was one of the first things to go on the curb. We were so excited by its impending demise that we rose out of bed early to watch the garbage truck eat it, its 700 lbs. of wood and steel creaking one last time. See you in hell, old couch.
And now we're happy to be here in Oregon, where we're still a few months away from the rainy season. If I seem a bit more, I dunno, Greg Rucka-ish than usual come October, you'll know the seasonal affective whatever has kicked in. In the meantime, I did get the chance to visit Cosmic Monkey in Portland, which was just as nice as I expected. Very low key and well-stocked; I'll be spending quite a bit of money there, I think. I still need to check out Floating World, which I will probably do next time we're in town. Which probably won't be for a while since Portland's kind of a drive from here.
I'm not sure what exactly is going on in the world of comics right now, aside from San Diego coming up this weekend. I've repeatedly stated my apprehension at the idea of spending several days packed in jowl-to-jowl with other comics enthusiasts, so I won't belabor the point here. All I can say to all attendees is better you than me (and I don't mean that in a malicious way--if you're planning on going, chances are that you're significantly more open to the mega-convention experience than I will ever be, and would probably prefer rubbing shoulders with fellow fans to sitting around the apartment wondering when your new couch is going to arrive). I'll keep you all in my thoughts as I attempt to assemble the countless pieces of furniture we acquired from IKEA* last weekend.**
*That is properly spelled in all caps, right?
**Said shopping trip being something like a trip to the San Diego convention, only with a significantly higher proportion of 35 year old dudes wearing capri pants. And adults dragging around severely bored kids--that trip was a strong advertisement for vigilant use of birth control. Is that our reward for working so hard to claw our way into middle class-dom? Spending Saturday morning wandering around the furniture store, trying to keep the three year old from crying and the six year old from breaking shit, while some heavily tattooed guy old enough to be your uncle sneers at you while standing in line at the (admittedly very inexpensive) cafeteria, waiting for Swedish meatballs?