"home. what's home? home on the electric range? where the buffalo roam? where the heart is? where you hang your hat? the buffalo are all in zoos, and nobody wears hats any more, which makes it difficult to locate this place - home." - jay mcinerney.
dear jay, i know where home is. home is in the place of fatal snow-fall. i can no longer move in my bedroom for the sheer amount of boxes and bags that have accumulated on the floor. none of this will fit in the car anyway. so if i don't suffer "death by snow" i will probably suffer "death by heavy object" or "death by citroen saxo with an overdue m.o.t.". call me paranoid if you will but i really would like to get home. if not, goodbye cruel world.
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