A boxing we will go!

Well, this must be the harbinger of the end of summer ... the moving out of smelly subletters, and the moving in of the college folk. Oh, wait, I was the subletter. damn. Not that smelly, I hope.

And, I would rather enjoy driving around town and seeing the new crop of co-eds and parent gaggles and strange vehicles piled with pieces of furniture - that if they had read the move-in manual would have found out are actually provided by the University - and small children with heads precariously wrenched out of open windows, in the hope against hope that a sign passing too close, or a stray mailbox will end the torture of the drive up, the move in, and then the eventual morose drive back to Bumblefizz, Colorado. And why didn't we fly?

That is to say, I would enjoy that. If it were possible to drive. Needless to say, there are a few new crumbs in town that don't understand that this is a whole cookie. With lots more crumbs that would like to get to work, or go home, or just get a few pieces of food from the local corporate distributer - and even though you seem to think that it would be okay to go back up the one-way-only street in reverse, because 'technically we are facing the right direction' - it's really not. Because I am behind you. And curiously enough, I want to go forward along this road.

But maybe that was silly of me. I should have taken Main street, where I could creep up the 6-11 % grade hill, feathering my clutch, and waiting for the precariously balanced futon to come rumbling free of it's seat, bringing with it a hail of Ramen and #2 pencils. Or, should I feel like taking my life into my hands, make the loop onto the highway to bypass the city altogether. There encountering persons from state(s) whose plate begins with 'New', surely meaning the recency of their having been licensed to drive. As I passed, in the right lane, because some people don't realize that it is called the passing lane due to the common action of 'passing other cars', not 'passing time', the second hippy with dreadlocks driving an Escalade, I believe a small amount of bile escaped my liver attempting to reach to digest the rancid meat it thought I had just transfered to my duodenum from my stomach, but as the sphincter of Oddi was still closed, it just mosied on over to the ol' gallbladder for a spell. Did I get too detailed all of a sudden?

On that note - I'm going to return to packing. I will have more stories of horror and insanity to impart, as this is indeed 'move-up week'. Do not go near Walmart, Staples, Price Chopper, or even attempt to enter the Verizon parking lot ... they share that with Staples.