Now that the guys and I are settled in to the new house, I've been looking back over the EB and realizing just how little I've thought about my trip the past week or so.
Somewhere between packing and cleaning, and unpacking and sorting about, I've hardly touched a guidebook, or thought about Belgian beer (though I’ve been busy drinking Black Butte Porter).
Moving requires a lot – focus, energy, time, back muscles. The lads and I all have been settling in here and there, unpacking another box or shifting something else about. Last night I finally got around to doing laundry (even though the laundromat sucked – it might be a block from the house, but its dryers aren’t worth shite), and started flipping through the Edinburgh Berlitz Pocket Guide that Philip Blazdell had sent me.
And I felt the mental wheels for my trip start to turn again…
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