...the furniture has not. The Russian mafia has until the 30th to deliver. I have no intention of pissing them off. They're quite wonderful to deal with if you know the rules. I’m not kidding, really. They’re very insistent that I not ship any vodka. Shipping hookers and vodka is their purview, and they don’t like interlopers. I tend to shop local for my hookers anyway.

Many of you may have heard me speak of the incredible volume of books I own. Only those of you (torin3 , technomage , starbabyf4g , blaecstan , and melvh , right off the top of my head) who have had the dubious pleasure of helping me move said books don’t feel a need to get into pissing matches over who owns more books. It’s a common SCA phenomenon to think that you do, as we are all insane bibliophiles --and I applaud us all for that -- but I assure you that unless you are tedeisenstein , I win, and I have the weight ticket to prove it.

My books came in at 4 tons. And that does not count the furniture or the anvils.

Yes, I said anvils. One of my favorite moving moments was when an enormous man picked up a tiny box and grunted, “Jeez, lady, whatcha got in here, anvils?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
There’s really no clever response to that.

Today, I am waiting for the second gas dude of the day (hey vikingtatter , what’s the correct title? I guess you can’t really call them “gas dudes” any more) to fix the water heater flue so we can have hot water. Finding us internet is my next task, but in the meantime, God love the residents of Austin who feel no need to secure their networks. Oo, spoke too soon, gonna have to find a Panera, dammit. At least I had pirate for an hour. Aar, matey, I’m a goner….