Why oh why must I be so vindictive? Why do I hope that the people moving into my current unit will want to wake up to polka music played at full volume every morning at, say, five thirty? That's just wrong.

Here's what I should wish for my replacements: that they bond with the Noisy Neighbors and are not irritated by the humming and thumping coming through the wall. I hope they borrow cups of sugar from each other, and by this time next year they're planning family vacations together.

I talked to Bert Noisy this afternoon, and it wasn't awkward at all. Either he doesn't know the real reason I'm moving, or he's pretending not to know. I lied my ass off and told him it was because I like the spatial layout better. "It'll be a lot quieter back there, too," he said.

Oh. I hadn't thought of that.

Bert's oldest boy starts high school tomorrow. "That's cool," I said when I wished him luck. He seemed to know what I meant. I wonder if he knows what he's getting into.

Cool apparently never goes completely out of style. I could have said awesome or rad, but the kid's only fourteen. Those words were dated by the time he could talk.

They were never my words anyway, even though I used them. When I was in high school, cool things were bitchin'. Nobody I knew actually said fab or gear, even though we knew we were supposed to.

There were no dudes in my high school either. Everyone was man, even the girls.

And wassup had a T in it somewhere, as I recall. I'm not sure; it's been a long time.

David came by around noon with his sturdy friend Doug, and between the three of us and two vehicles, we moved most of what was available to be moved. Some things have to stay until the last minute, and others were just too heavy or bulky for the van (not to mention my little Honda).

I was grateful for the help (thanks, guys). And I'll be glad to have whatever help they can give me the rest of the week. I can always count on my nephew to come through when I need him.

While we were there, the landlords were getting busy with the reparations. Fred was framing my new kitchen wall, but he took time out to tell me about all the new cabinets he was putting in, and the new (reconditioned) stove, and the new (renovated) washer/dryer. Jerry was painting the walls.

And the Vacating Tenant was puttering around. He had cleared out half the garage for the stuff I was bringing over today, but the whole time I was there I didn't see him move anything out of the other half, or the house.

I wasn't paying close attention, so he might have just been marking time until I was gone and he could steal my Barbara Mandrell Christmas albums, or my videos of Earth 2 and Swamp Thing (the series). Probably not, though. As I said, I wasn't paying attention to him.

I spent most of the day puttering around myself, here in the soon-to-be-deserted Green Acres. There really wasn't much more I could pack yet, so I concentrated on filling out change of address forms and getting checks written, so that the monthly bills can be paid as soon as they're covered. I must remember to make the deposit first this time, before mailing out the payments.

All in all, it was a low key day, despite a couple of hours of intense physical activity when we were moving. The pressure is off, for the most part, and I'm just coasting home, confident that I'll have time to take care of whatever comes up this week.

That doesn't mean it'll all go smoothly, of course, but for some reason I've run out of worst-case scenarios. My sights are set for the horizon, and my eyes are on the prize. Finally hitting the home stretch, I can almost see the finish line from here.

Bitchin', man.