I Am Soooo Tired. It is now 4:00 PM on Sunday afternoon, and I am just starting to type all the things that need to be typed. The list is quite long and most of the things are promises long past due.

But the first thing I am doing is this post to get the ball rolling. The two main ingredients needed to provide the post, paper and typewriter ribbons were both in short supply since my move to this new location. Friday morning this problem was solved with the arrival of both items!

One would have thought that I would have started typing on Friday, or maybe Saturday, or at least earlier than 4:00 PM today. I have no good reason for the delay, but plenty of lame excuses which I will not bother trying to foist on you, my faithful blog readers. You are still out there. Are you?

I spent the last hour working on putting all the various letters and other printed matter I need to respond to in some semblance of order. Will it do any good? Time will tell.

I will finish this initial post and then write a big thank-you note to Mom and Dad. Not only did they send in the needed typing supplies, I also received twelve pounds of food which I will mention in one of the following posts. Yes, there will be more posts coming. I am not sure how many I will get done today, but they will start flowing forth for all to read.

Why am I so tired? Well this new location I am at is about to undergo a facility-wide review by an independent accrediting organization. (Not that it means all that much, if they fail we do not get sent home. It would mean we were in a place that did not even meet the minimum standards for a prison in the United States.) This means everything that could be painted has been painted, and what could be waxed, got waxed.

I somehow volunteered for a task here and there, and before I knew it my good work brought me heaps of praise, (it is cheaper than having to pay me) and what else? More tasks. I have painted over fifty percent of the sloped ceiling in the sleeping area, mopped and buffed more floors than I care to mention, and removed innumerable paint drips and drops from the floor.

In typical backwards prison fashion, they first stripped and waxed the floors. Next all the vertical surfaces were painted. These vertical surfaces, which include the room's perimeter cement block walls and metal four-foot-high cubical walls, tend to allow paint to fall, yes gravity is a factor, on to the newly waxed floor. Not content with the progress toward a neatened up living area, we then paint rollered the ceilings.

Altogether four different colors were used, and since all surfaces were above the newly waxed floor, you guessed it, some of each of those four colors ended up on the floor in the form of fine mist, little drips, big globs (which usually became the start of a trail of sneaker prints), and even an occasional outright paint spill.

I now know what happens when one spends a year or so not doing much physical activity, and then starts to use all those wonderful muscle groups that for the last year only had to worry about holding up a book for me to read while reclining on my top bunk. I have certainly been sleeping well!

I did find the letter I sent to my wonderful editor, and if he was kind enough to post the titles for a bunch of posts I intended to write, [Editor: Sorry, I did not.] that is the start of what needs to be done.

I think I can use some of what I need to write to Mom and Dad as postable material so that will allow me to kill two birds with one stone. But why would I want to kill even one bird?

Thank you all for hanging in there while I get my life back together after my recent location change.

Hope life is being kind to all of you out there and enjoy the continuing adventures of Prison Pete.  ¶ 8:45 AM