See this box? It took me three months to unpack this thing.

I was calmly freaking out about my wedding, which is about 80 days away, when Dave saunters by and tells me he stopped by the landlord's today to ask the manager about our lease. Turns out, instead of moving out Oct. 31, we have to move out Sept. 30. By noon.

So there's that. Might as well pack up NOW, I'm thinking, as I have what seems like 10,000 things to do between now and the wedding, and oh yeah, let's move in 66 days.

I feel like I just finished moving. I've moved more than a dozen times in my life. I don't have the energy, the boxes, the newspaper (despite working for one, weird, huh), or the arm muscles to be ready to move again. And we lost all our moving friends when they volunteered to make the trip from Michigan to Wisconsin about 10 months ago.

I have a brilliant idea. How about Sept. 29, I go to bed, and wake up Sept. 30 in a new house, and I wouldn't have to pack or move anything. Everything would be all put away. All the mail would be switched over, and the electric company, too. The Internet'd be hooked up, and Julius Sumner Miller, our cat, would be there, too. Music would play softly in the background, and there would be no bugs or scary mold to deal with.

I could deal with that.

Or, I could just jump out this window here. But then who would feed Julius? OK, fine. I'll stay.