Another strangely sad and moving tale

My sorting hat is wilting, folks; however,we have sorted from pillar to post, throughout this vast mobile home of ours, and I can tell you, we have it all sorted out! Today, the big Alpha School Thrift Shop truck pulled up on the lawn and took many, many things away; I can envision our old possessions gracing the homes of relentless second-hand shoppers from Goleta to Carpinteria. But at least they don't disgrace our humble home any longer.
We wake these mornings at dawn; John, who ever in the past would draw the curtains and lower the blinds at sunset, has been subconsciously forgetting to do so, these past two or three weeks. I analyzed this behavior, this morning, and came to the illumination that we are preparing for our Redwood Cottage home. The windows there have no coverings of any kind, and for good reason: the immeasurable beauty of the outdoor surroundings must no more be blocked from view than should the Venus de Milo or David sculptures be draped.
Our plan and hope (wait for it, all you "New Regime" scoffers) is that we will begin to live in tune with circadian rhythms, up there in the forest: wake at dawn, sleep when it is dark. So far, during this trial run, it has been a delightful experience. Admittedly, the sun comes through the treetops a bit later in morning, in the hilly forest country -- but whatever that glorious old sun does, we will do.
The last of our large appliances (the dishwasher that Melissa bought for us a few years ago) rolled out yesterday. No matter: there will be two or three dishwashers in the cottage kitchen -- one built in and electrified, the other two: human.

I will take this afternoon off, after all the sorting and packing of the past tiring days: a hair trim, a mani-pedi at a local spa, and some last-minute shopping.  This evening some old friends from my Trinity parish "Just Faith" experience are having a small farewell supper for me.

And soon we will be on our way.