I'm waiting for the fight. You know the fight I'm talking about. Revision: If you are married you know the fight I'm talking about. I'm talking about the mid-move fight. I'm just waiting for Martin & I to blow up in each others faces about some ridiculous box or they way the other has packed the baby clothes or why on earth we are moving in the first place. Moving is frustrating and maddening and ridiculous. Today I looked at our big tv and thought, "I wonder if our buyers would like us to leave this. . ." And then I played out a fantasy in my head where everyone who buys a house gets everything in it and no one has to ever pack again. It was a good fantasy. And I'm sure that in about two weeks it will seem like the greatest idea anyone ever had.