When I got home from work I noticed a moving truck in the driveway. It was there all evening and nobody was filling it or anything, which was odd.
We went to bed at 10 and were aaaalmost asleep when the doorbell rang. It was the neighbor lady asking if we could move our car so she could park the moving truck in front of the building. "We need to get her out of here tonight," she said to me, pointing at a college-age girl with her thumb. I threw on jeans and moved the car around to the side of the building and climbed back into bed, where I thought to myself "why the heck couldn't they have moved her during the evening? The freaking truck was there for hours!"
This morning Cory was ready to go before I woke up, practically. We went to Starbucks and spent an hour doing the crossword puzzle in the Oregonian and drinking coffee and making faces at the baby next to us.
Ah, work. In which I shall probably be building shelves. Which means I'll have to wear a hard hat in order to get to the truck shop. Woo.