Sweet Sweetback, Don't Fail Me Now

I think I've decided to abandon my appointment with the moving company and just partner with my next door neighbor and his pickup truck instead. He's offering to help me out just for getting him a tank of gas. Granted, that's not chump change these days, but it's a hell of a lot better than paying $275, which is what the movers were quoting.

The only things of consequence still left are my queen-size bed + frame, my 36-inch TV (yeah, it's color, beeyotch!), my formica table and my washer and dryer. The latter two may suck, but I can borrow a dolly from work to make it easier. I think I can probably figure out how to hook the dryer duct up well enough to avoid burning down the house, too.

I hope this isn't the hubris of middle-agedom speaking, but this doesn't seem like a back-breaking job from this end. Hopefully I won't be blogging about its conclusion from a prone position.