Boy, it is nice to have the Internet connection back. Ah, life has returned to some normalcy. That is, if you ignore all the boxes that we are still walking around. We finally found the shelves for the bookcase in the living room so if I'd get my butt out there I could get rid of some more boxes.

The basement looks like a disaster area. That's the place where you just take boxes you don't know what else to do with. Bill took charge of a major project over the weekend. He moved the dryer over by the washer. We had trouble with the electric line to the dryer for the past two weeks so we had to keep using the small apartment-size dryer which takes forever and a day to dry clothes. But he's got that straightened out now. He and Todd took out the 500 pound concrete broken laundry tub and put in a lighter plastic one. Then he put a screen in the basement screen door and fixed the door so that it will shut now. Next, he put up a piece of plywood over one of the windows so he could vent the dryer over there and also put in one of the cat doors in preparation for the next big project of putting up another cat enclosure. He painstakingly took out all the staples from the old cat enclosure, rolled up all the wire fencing, and unnailed all the wood pieces so he could use them over again.

Dusky would sure love to have that enclosure up. He's been living in the basement ever since we brought Minnie in a week ago. He lies up on the furnace ducts to get as far away from her as possible. Butterball has come to grips with Minnie. Actually, Minnie is now a bit intimidated by him. If only my two cats could get like that. I haven't seen Kaboodle for several days now. I hear that she's living up in Amy's bedroom. I heard a big scufuffle last night at 1:00 in the morning. Woke me right up out of a dead sleep. Bill didn't rouse. There was racing all over the house and then I heard the hollow ka-thump of a cat jumping up on the furnace duct downstairs. Then quiet. Guess that got settled. Poor Dusky. I go downstairs every now and then and coax him out to give him some petting and loving. It's been pretty much decided that we have to let Minnie go. I feel bad for her but I feel worse for my cats.

Oh, yeh, guess I ought to explain the title of this page. HOTS. Stands for Hamilton Ohio Trainwatchers Society. Bill's co-worker, Mary, came up with that one. That's because no matter where you go in Hamilton you can't get away from the trains. I have never seen so many train tracks trundling right through so many residential areas. At the other house we were one mile away from two major railroad lines. We heard nearly a continuous stream of horns tooting at all the crossings. And there were many crossings to toot at. Here at the new house, we are just as close to another train line. It's not as major a one, though and there are only two crossings we have to hear the horns blasting for. Plus, they don't seem to run at 3:00 and 4:00 and 5:00 and 6:00 in the morning so we are able to sleep with our windows open now.

Actually, we are even closer than that to a train track. The people across the street from us have a track that goes right through their backyard. I kid you not. Thankfully, that line is just an offshoot of the main one. It there to take supplies down to this one factory that, luckily, isn't close by. So, we only hear a train rumbling through maybe once a day, if that. It just struck me funny how true it is that we all that live in Hamilton are unchartered members of the HOTS, like it or not.