If you have written to me lately and I haven’t answered the reason is simple; I’m moving.
Not servers, from the little one bedroom apartment that four of us (recently increased to five) have been living in to a house. A house.
I never wanted a house, but now I have one, and I feel adult, mature. This is MY home. My place. I can put an eyebolt in the ceiling for the heavy bag if I freaking well want to now, without having to worry about violating the lease.
I have a yard. I can do rituals in the back yard if I want. I can meditate outside, I can practice my karate katas. I can work out.
I can freaking bang while making my leather stuff if I have to. I can play my music loud if I want. I have MY OWN SPACE.
You have no clue how wonderful this is. Those who found their first home know what I’m talking about, but those of you in apartments are in for a treet when you finally get your own space.
So now we have sweat equity in this place, and I’m going to be working harder than I have in quite some time. But we have space. Damn.