Final dispatch from the 219

This will be the last post from my apartment, which is now an empty shell of its former self. Sitting on the floor, back uncomfortably rested against the baseboard heater, I'm reminded of my first day in this place, when it was empty expect for me and my computer ... and, like today, it was hot as fuck.

A 16-foot truck turned out to be the exact size Sarah and I needed. Pretty much filled to the brim, but with enough free space for everything to breathe comfortably ... or shift during transit and shatter.

I still have a few errands to run, namely chatting with Comcast, the power company and the post office, but then I'll be on the road, stopping in Wilsonville for an afternoon/early evening of sleep, then hitting road in the wee hours of the night. I'm actually getting excited for the trip, though I know that feeling will undoubtedly wear off before I cross the Oregon border (I'm looking at you, Baker City).

Anyway, there's no way we'd have gotten to this point without a lot of help, especially from Mr. Hammett and both sets of parents (Dan and Justine, Tom and Betsy, Ryan — take a bow), and I can't wait for reward them with free room, board and meals when they come visit.

And yes, I said "when."

So yeah, that's it from 97128. Nice town, nice people — a nice step.

I'll miss it, sure, but as of now, the road is my only home.