Somewhat astonishingly, I wrote an entry this weekend. You can use the link at the bottom of this entry to go look at it if you missed it.

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There were no quarters to be had in all of Williamsburg this weekend, and Matt and I came up one dollar short of enough change to do our laundry. So we hauled it over to my folks' place to do it. (Four weeks, and we'll be moved into our new house and won't have to use quarters to do our wash anymore!

We spent the great majority of our time with them talking about our plans for the move. Much like our wedding (a year and four months ago), the move is beginning to take over our lives to the point that we can't really think about anything else. Everything we buy is considered in terms of having to move it. Everything we do reminds us of some other preparation we need to make. And every plan we make for gathering friends to help reminds us that we won't know until the week of closing whether they'll actually finish the damned house on time.

Bear with us, please. It'll be over in four weeks.

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We've got new upstairs neighbors, too: our fourth since I moved into the apartment. (Which is not unusual if you consider that I've been there for three and a half years.) When I first moved in, the neighbors were a handful of fairly quiet college students. The students gave way to the Worst Neighbors Ever - the Mexican family who only slept four hours a night and played mariachi gospel music at full volume the rest of the time. We were vastly relieved when the Mexicans finally moved away to be replaced with an Oriental couple who were even quieter than the college students had been. The new neighbors are themselves reasonably quiet, but they have a pair of dalmations who bark hysterically whenever anyone opens the door - not to their apartment - but to the building.

Matt and I are desperately hoping the dogs get used to the door soon, and we are feverishly counting the days until we move out of the apartment.

(I told you everything related to the move.)