Now, how about that Xanax?

It is all my fault.  The military graciously offers to move us and all we would have to do would be sit back, sip a margarita and occasionally throw out a, Ohhhhhh be careful with that, it's an aiiiiirrrrrrrrrr-looooooooommmmm!  But when I heard that we could make several thousand dollars by doing it ourselves, I was adamant that that was the route to go.

It's not that I've changed my mind, but from the look of my house, you'd think I had been ransacked by secret agents looking for a hidden file.  

It's almost over.  We pick up the truck in thirty minutes.  Later tonight our friends are coming over to help us do the heavy lifting and then, then we will sit back with them for one last time on my patio and proceed to do that thing that southerners have perfected.  Socializing.

I am filled to near bursting with waves of melancholy and nostalgia.  Are you up for that?  Let's play therapist.  I talk, you listen.  But not today.  Today is Rex Manning...I mean Moving day.  And today is filled with friends, and boxes, and later, pizza and beer.