any port

Feeling more than usually juvenile this evening due to having just finished moving and sorting the majority of my belongings into that Stygian tributary otherwise known as the Parental Basement. But, in my defense, the following:

1. It is not technically a basement, being in no part underground, but merely the lowest level of the town home;

2. Fresh air and light are admitted on a really quite frequent basis;

3. I was on the verge of depositing for another place and could not have been paid to continue to cohabit with the Baconator;

4. Most importantly, within a week or two, neither parent will be living there;
a. or, in fact, even living in this country
b. for several months.

Obviously it's mostly a favor to me, but it will be at least a little bit useful for them to have someone around to make sure the Allegheny doesn't wash the place away or that the neighbors don't chop down the willows or turn the wetlands into an herbicidal bog. Again. These genuinely are my main duties. I'm not entirely certain how I'm supposed to prevent these things from occurring, but I am armed with surprise, fear, and a seventeen foot canoe.

It's a pity about the apartment. But it'll be pleasant to have some real quiet (a luxury in short supply since the last time I lived alone) and to feel the inspiration of the water again. So much in the works right now that I'll definitely be needing both.