To the five people that read this diary, sorry it's been a while since I've updated.

I'm in the process of moving and my phone company keeps changing the date for when they're going to "turn on" my phone line (yes, those were their words, and, yes, I did giggle). I'm writing this at work and trying to get an "I'm concentrating" look on my face, so it looks like I'm doing actual work. Since I waste a lot of time at my job, I'm pretty good at making that particular face.

I hate moving. I should rephrase that....I hate the process of moving. The actual moving to a new apartment is wonderful considering what I'm leaving behind. My old apartment will be another entry as soon as I've completely moved out. If I try to write it now, then "inanimate object karma" will appear and the windows will blow apart as I'm trying to check out and get my deposit back.

But, again, I really hate the process of moving. What I really need is one of those transporters from Star Trek. I could just put my stuff in a pile in the middle of the floor, hit a button, and it's magically transported to the new place. I went to Home Depot to buy one, but they must have been sold out.

What makes moving really bad is my own fault. I have a book fetish. A pretty serious one considering that I have about 350 hardback books (god only knows how many paperbacks). I always vow that I'm going to get rid of some of them, but everytime I try to go through them, I just can't give any of them away. I've also noticed I have pretty eclectic tastes when it comes to books. Want Hitler's diary? I'm your girl! Want to know more about Greek philosophy? Come on over! Want to read Ed Burns screenplays? Gotcha covered!

So, if any of you ever move to Oklahoma, just blow off the library and come to my apartment.