Never, ever unpack your food storage from it’s cannery boxes. Packing, lifting, loading and unloading a million pounds of wheat, water, rice and beans had to be suckiest part of the move. Really, leave everything in the cannery boxes- they are the perfect size, shape and uniformity for stacking, lifting and transporting. Those cannery planning peeps know what’s up.

When your five and three-year old’s turn their noses up at yet another Happy meal, you know you have been in Limbo too long. Yes, they OD’d on fast food, and really want Mama to make whole wheat pancakes again. Hooray! As for me, after sampling far too much drive-through “food” I have to say: Carl’s Jr? Best burger, hands down. McD’s really stinks, and the quality is terrible, but their fries are the best. Jack’s  24-hour breakfast menu rocks… I love me some hash browns during an open house, regardless of time. Cheese curds at A&W- scrumptious little grease bombs; Jeff would do anything for them. And we won’t be making any runs for the Border anytime soon. Ick.

Even when you think you have everything done, every last jot and tittle taken care of, the escrow company will call you and need several thousand more dollars, and they will need it in an hour- in a cashiers check. Count on it. It’s just part and parcel of the crisis known as escrow.

Getting utilities set up is more work than getting a flippin’ passport. They want your social, your license, and your firstborn, just to get a little water and gas. Never-mind that you had service, and paid your bill, for the last five years at your last home.

The cable guy will be an idiot. That’s money in the bank.

Sure as the sun rises, your three-year old will wig-out about changing houses.  Be prepared for regressions, tantrums, abdicating of all rules and total mutiny. The older child will see said mutiny, and jump on the bandwagon. Be prepared. How? Sheesh, if I knew that I wouldn’t need my straitjacket anymore.

You will lose at least one box. Guaranteed. Even if you are only moving across town like us, the box containing all five of your telephones and the box with your husband’s work clothing will certainly disappear into the Bermuda triangle.  It took me six days to find our telephones. People keep stopping by, asking why the phone just rings and rings and rings… hmmmm. It’s a mystery. I never heard anything.

The end is in sight, my friends! I cannot believe there are so many of you still checking in… the computer will be down until next week when the ol’ Comcast dude will show up sometime between 8 and 5… because I have nothing better to do for nine hours, right?

The moving truck is in the driveway, the kids are dirty messes from “helping” all day, and the EQ is showing up at 8 a.m. tomorrow… Baton down the hatches, all systems go… Wish us luck!

To the dumb-a$$ who somehow managed to steal our credit card number:

Dude! Aside from the totally karma-sucking nature of stealing someone’s credit, you were stupid enough to give Dell your address for shipping when you “bought” your new fancy laptop on our dime. Rest easy, Lame-Tard, when Dell let me know what you had done, I made sure to pass on your name and address to the fraud department of your town, my credit card company, and the federal government.

Oh, and all the crap you bought on e-bay? Yeah, they can trace you through that too. So be looking for a knock from the fine gentlemen in Blue any day.

P.S. You suck.