Seriously people, I wasn’t kidding about starving to death.  Next time I’m going to hire a company that caters its moves.

I fear this will be me before the movers are done. (image poached from here)

I guess the real question is WHY ON EARTH DO I HAVE SO MUCH STUFF???  If I survive to move again, I swear I’ll go back to my university-era philosophy, when the rule was that I couldn’t own anything more than what would fit inside a single load of a Dodge minivan.

And I don’t want this to come across as trying to shift the blame or anything, but I’m pretty sure my death will be on Amanda for luring me to exotic places where she knew I would meet strangers who would force me to buy all the things.