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Monday, May. 16, 2005
The fine art of packing house continues here at the lovely two-story in the Ďburbs.

I must say, the only thing Iím reasonably happy about is the fact that we started packing when we did - two weeks ago. Because thereís no way weíd be ready to burst out of this place next Friday if we hadnít.

I think I related a short time ago that moving friends and acquaintances from one apartment to another was a sort of part time hobby for Stu and I, an occupational hazard that is tied to our possession of a semi-large box truck and a penchant for hard work.

We moved Chief Mo a couple months ago. Mo has assisted on several of these things, knows the drill and was insufferably ready to be on the receiving end of our hobby for once. He was packed, organized to a military degree and standing with coffee at the doorway at 0700 in the morning.

Thing is, Mo had exactly two small rooms worth of stuff. Maybe ten boxes of gear, and a seabag or two. A bed. Small dresser and a TV. Some memorabilia. It all fit in the box truck with enough room leftover for a motorcycle, a cover band and a riding mower.

Yesterday, I filled the same cubic footage with the boxed contents of our dining room and the salvageable stuff from the garage. Not the dining room furniture mind you, just the contents (and if anyone is looking for an 8 seater dining room, give me a nudge. Itís on the block, and must go soon).

Entirely too much stuff. Itís just ridiculous. And mind you, we are throwing stuff out and giving stuff away.

Had a yard sale on Saturday, which Ally was in charge of and I made sure I was miles away from. I think we overwhelmed even the more hardened of yard sale groupies who wandered through, and there were plenty of Ďem. The front yard looked like aisles 1 to 10 at your average Wal-Mart, sans shopping carts and large women with purses designed by Bass Pro.

We netted $83. And made a spectacular run to Goodwill with the balance of stock. I donít think itís beyond the pale to say that $83 will probably not cover the gas fee for all the trips Iím making to Goodwill, the bulging storage shed, and the local landfill. But there you go.

It definitely wonít do a thing for the case quantities of salve Iím spreading on muscles that shriek whenever they encounter that next box, or that next bit of furniture.

Lord, just get me through this month. Then you can have me. Iíll even take the devil for lodging if heíll promise to take me out of moving hell for a while.

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