cold turkey.

I was on a little bit of a run there, and then we moved. That's happened before, but it will never happen again. I told Marc that the next time he moves, he's doing it alone. I am absolutely the world's worst mover. I hate to pack, I hate to leave places behind, I hate the mess when you arrive, and I hate to unpack.

I heard someone at the mall today say, "Hate is a strong word." I guess that the sentiment is right, but the execution doesn't seem quite appropriate. Isn't it best to use strong words? Maybe the thought is that hate is a strong feeling, and that it isn't an appropriate word to use casually. May I say now, I hate to move, even in the formal sense.

I also heard someone at the mall say. "Let's get a tape so you can record Full House." I told J, "We hate Full House. Your Aunt Diane loves Full House. We love your Aunt Diane. The world is a confusing place. Sometimes conflicts can't be fixed in a half-hour."

There was moving, and then there was Halloween. I had a sense that something was wrong with this Halloween. I remember the Halloween of my childhood, when we begged to go our without parents and when there was always a chance of getting egged.

These days no kids go out without parents unless they're too old to be trick-or-treating. There were lots of those hoodlums out, just playing along for the candy. I asked one girl in a silver hat what she was supposed to be, and she giggled and said, "Yeah, I just kind of dressed up." Umm, dressed up as what, a big dumb girl in a silver hat? I guess so.

There were also a disconcerting number of children dressed as various dregs of society. "Who were they?" Marc asked. "Two whores and a pimp from the future," I replied. "What about them?" "Britney Spears and either her husbands or the dirty old men who admire her." "What the hell was she?" "I don't know, but there was dirt on her face. You know, fake dirt."

We gave out little toys in addition to the candy: whistles, pencils, and the highlight, plastic fangs. I knew they would go over well, but nobody believed me. We completely reengineered the neighborhood costume paradigm. We turned Britney Spears into Count Britcula. We turned Sunshine Bear into Bram Stoker's Sunshine Bear. We turned one of the whores into a bloodsucking whore.

This has been a little disjointed, but my mind's going that way these days. Wherever I look, there's something new to take care of. And if I had to pick a theme for the week, it would have to be WE HAVE SO MUCH CRAP.

Note: We are still without Internet. This post was written by Kate, at home, and re-typed by Marc, at work.