There will be much packing into boxes this weekend. This is the final stretch.

Earlier this week, as I made the long and painful journey across Interstate 80, I sat at the steering wheel and thought to myself:

Trunz.

I was not immediately conscious of why the word had jumped into my mind. But as I drove I began to notice a foul odor. I assumed it was coming from outside, but oddly I wasn't driving out of it, even after several miles.

Finally, I decided to overtake the truck I had been following for some time. As I passed I saw a sign on the side of the truck:

Municipal waste. De-watered solids.

Now I knew whence came that stink. This was a truck full of brunz. And not just any brunz: this was freeze-dried brunz.

So of course I had to call Steve immediately to tell him about it.

"I'm driving alongside a semi carrying a load of crap-jerky," I said, or something to that effect. And I also thought of a replacement for Steve's earlier usage lesson:

"The truck full of brunz created a strong sense of trunz for all nearby motorists."

Yeah, we definitely need to open a university.