your title here
As the move approaches it's getting much harder to write. It's not that anything concrete needs to be done, not for a couple more weeks; but the air has filled with the ions of change. My father shows up today for a week at an engineering conference, following which we'll go hike in the gorge or something, following which I nail down an apartment—none of these are really unusual burdens, I know, but I haven't figured out how to write and live at the same time. Like Trollope writing in the railway carriage. No idea how he did it.
