This refrain shouldn't bother most people, and actually, I broke 4 nails. Moving the last stuff out of the old house in Oregon is hard on nails.

Broken nails drive me nuts. (Uh oh, some 1984 person will probably use this on me, instead of Winston's rat). But I couldn't do anything about it because I flew from Toronto to Eugene, thereby precluding me from packing any nefarious nail clippers.

I try to avoid checked baggage, and therefore got rid of my vicious weapon before even departing.

Immigration was a joke (as usual) in Toronto. The female was dismayed that I ONLY had a driver's license. "Why don't you have a passport or birth certificate? How did you get into Canada?"

Biting my tongue about scuba diving in Lake Ontario, I replied that I had driven to Canada, and the only ID they asked me for was my DL.

Also, I imagine that if I DID keep my stupid birth certificate with me, that I'd ALSO have to keep a copy of a 1984 (there's that year again!) court order changing my name. My BC has a name only vaguely similar to what I carry around now.

The house in Selma is now officially empty of our stuff. There are a few "treasures" left around for the new owner. To assuage my conscience, I left $200 in the safe to pay for some trash cleanup. The house is actually pretty good. I even got the garage in shape. But the outside is "sub-optimal".

My contract ended with the good doctors a few days ago, so this is the first trip across the US that I don't have to fret about getting from connection to connection. No sitting in truckers' lounges for 8 hours programming my butt off.

Looks like we'll land in Troy, NH, with a 40 acre plot. (!) Who says you can't gulch in NH?

Pictures are too close in - but considering that the property has no "timber value", it has quite a few trees!