The Big Kahuna had it absolutely right about the whole moving experience. He advised me to burn everything and start over with new stuff on the other side.

I hate boxes.

Right now the apartment is an obstacle course -- stacks of boxes punctuated with bundles of odd-shaped belongings and furniture. For the last few days the place was looking like a real mess; by now things are looking neater. And sadder.

In the morning I'll disassemble the desk and box up some of the personal items I've been using. After that -- I have truck.

(Reminds me of the witty rejoinder I told at the office, oh, about 15 years ago -- when the chatterbox secretary spent the whole day complaining about her husband's frustrating attempts to purchase a new truck and I urged her to please shut up already, to which she said, "Ugh, tell it to my husband," and I replied, "Why, I have no truck with him." I felt pretty clever, until I realized that no one in earshot got the pun, so I slunk away to my cubicle to plot revenge... Alane didn't think it was funny either when I told her that night. Nor did Guido. Or Gene. Some friends I got...)