Time plods, but quickly

Panic. Palpitations. Pessimism. Peril. Perhaps. (I should face the peril). Susie and I signed the papers for our house a day and a half ago. The keys to the kingdom will be delivered tomorrow. Maybe late today. Maybe. Moving day bears down on me like... I don't know, it just bears down on me. Rather, moving days bear down. We shall begin tomorrow evening. Most, well, a lot of Saturday and then, March 1, U-Haul Day. (Celebrating that holiday a bit early. Maybe a bit late). The goal is to get all the things moved that wouldn't do well snuggled between boxes and furniture in the back of a moving van. Why the "back of a moving van?" Who would load the front of a moving van? Extra words for this post. That's why. Now even more. I have a plan for the move. I should probably have charted it out. Maybe a spreadsheet-slash-checklist. Nahh. Just load the stuff and go. Unload. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Gently eddying brain squall. Must begin with the dinosaur skeletons. Not real ones mind you. Wood models. Oooh! I know! Moving day reminds me of the time, OK, times, as a child when I misbehaved. This may be familiar to you Dear Reader. "Just wait 'til your father gets home!"