I shouldn’t be writing here, because I have massive amounts of life’s detritus to move. My place has become the site of a dig so extensive, the Leakey’s would weep and Indian Jones would just get drunk. So much shit, so many civilizations to unearth, so little time, relatively speaking.

The goal for today and tomorrow is to at least create enough space that M. can move about freely when he arrives on Wednesday. It will be a bonus if he is able to discern some postive change among the chaos and destruction.

Today, I will see how many boxes can fit in a VW convertible with the roof down and how slowly I need to drive to Goodwill to ensure household items and clothes won’t be pouring onto the pavement.

One complaint for today, Hallmark and Grisham are responsible for valuable time and brain cells I won’t be getting back. During last night’s dig in the living room, I had this slow-moving piece of shit on in the background. Turns out being an Arkansas cotton farmer in the ’50s wasn’t as glamorous as you might guess, and kids are always witnessing murders.