Well, as of tomorrow, Broomfield will become significantly less a part of my life. At last. I've been loading up the truck with my stuff and now, more than before, it actually feels more real. There is still a part of me that expects things to fall-through and part of me still anticipates that I will go back up to Fort Collins only to go back into the maddening isolation that is Murphy's house. Into a spidery basement that smells like mildew, where the only TV station my TV can pick up is FOX and UPN. Where you can hear every move the dogs make, as there is no insulation. When you turn on the water anywhere in the house, whatever it is you are doing and whatever concentration you managed to amass is suddenly completely shattered by a flood of de-tuned white noise as the water rushes through the under-sized pipes. This is why I couldn't get much done, studying or otherwise. There is nothing more distracting for me than those damn, loud, old pipes. I hate that house with a passion

.



And now some pictures from the moving, packing an cleaning that's going on today.















For some reason, this truck reminds me of the Gojulas. Although it doesn't really have the same sex appeal as it.




Heaviest freaking piece of furnature I own.
It's supposed to be pressboard, but it weighs
like freakin' OAK or something.





It is an American truck. Clearly, it is white and a truck. What other country could it have possibly come from? Spain? Korea? Guatemala?




This has nothing to do with the moving or anything.
It is just a really funny picture I took yesterday in the car.




This has even less to do with moving.


I'm going to edit this post tonight and add even more pictures.
So just you wait.