The Roads of Hell are lined with Moving Vans.
I've been somewhat involved in my sister's move out of Oregon. What little spare time I've had went to that instead of blogging. And I can assure you it wasn't a "bike move" as featured in my blog last summer [see archives August 13, 14, 15, 2006]. No, this move was highly motorized every step of the way -- and like most moves, a never ending nightmare.
I know one thing about hell -- it's a place where you have to pack up every possession you've ever acquired, and move it to another dwelling. When you get there, you have to unpack it all and set up house. The minute you finish that, you have to pack it all back up again and move to yet another destination..... and on and on, into eternity.
As the Flexcar slogan goes (I think): "Sometimes, you just need a car." Had I not finally given in and developed the skill of driving a car, I would've been no help at all this last week. In my teen years, unlike other kids who wanted nothing more than to learn to drive, I was determined to have nothing to do with it. Later on I'll explain what happens when you can't drive and your Tarzanesque jungle guide falls on his sword a million miles from civilization. But right now I'm going to bed.