Friday is moving day. And this week, I am like Scrooge McDuck. Except, instead of blissfully backstroking my Glaswegian tail feathers through a cash-filled swimming pool, I am clumsily lumbering my sorry tush through a Texas-size coagulate of cast-off cardboard, packing tape, and permanent markers.

If someone were to sink a post into my brain, mount a hook, and hang a shingle, the lettering on the sign would read:

THIS SPACE OCCUPIED.

Cause it totally is.

No proper post this week. My bad. Your boon. Look at all the time you’re gonna have now that you don’t need to glom on and grit your teeth to make it through one of my marathon stories! You should totally thank me by coming over to help me pack! Oh, and while you’re at it, why don’t you tackle my homework?

Yes, homework. That creative writing workshop I signed up for, it starts tonight. And yeah, there is pre-work … which I haven’t started pre-working on. (Of course.)

In conclusion, I would just like to say that yesterday my mom called and asked me to write down a word. I-n-g-u-i-n-a-l, she spelled out. When I asked what it meant, Mom said it was a kind of hernia men get when their intestines protrude from their groin into their scrotal sac. Mom has decided she wants to be a sonogram technician when she grows up. She is learning all sorts of new words in her medical terminology class at the community college. Like it or not, I am learning them too. And now, so are you.

You’re welcome.