Well, it’s official. I finally live on my own again, after 4 months back with the folks. I’ve still got a ton to do, but I’m mostly moved in now. Will I miss the extra money I was saving on groceries, rent, utilities, and strippers (Pops always picked up the bill at Heartbreakers!)? Sure, but is it worth it to be in a house of my own where I can eat nachos, sans pants, while watching cartoons on the couch at 4 AM? You bet it is. I’m kidding about Heartbreakers, by the way…Pops never picked up the bill.

Unfortunately, Sunday was a lot warmer than it was supposed to be. It’s a widely known theory that furniture becomes exponentially heavier by each degree the temperature rises, which would explain why my TV wound up weighing 873 pounds (or 2 deciliters, metric). And as we all know, the heavier the furniture is, the more beer the movers are required to drink…by “movers,” I mean “Stan, HL, Lato and me.” Truly, under normal circumstances, the four of us would never drink a beer. But it’s actually written in the United States Constitution that you are required to drink beer while moving, and the four of us love and respect our country too deeply to disregard the wishes of the founding fathers. Take that, Commies! USA! USA! USA! USA!

Anyway, the furniture is all moved in and mostly in place, the kitchen has been cleaned, the bathroom disinfected, all that really remains is hanging pictures, waiting for the cable guy tomorrow and disposing off all the empty boxes on trash day. I’m waiting on the girlfriend’s input on which pictures to hang where. As a guy, if it were up to me, my walls would be covered with Pabst Blue Ribbon memorabilia and pictures of monkeys, dressed as clowns, riding unicycles, while throwing feces at each other. Although that would discourage unwanted visitors…