Moving

Few things compare to the emotional, psychological, and physical toll of having half of one's life consigned to boxes, with the other half still to be boxed. There are worse fates, of course; petty, unjust imprisonment, for one. But among life's more banal hardships, moving remains the king of White People Problems Mountain.

I've moved something over a half dozen times in my life (not counting in-and-out-of college dorms, which should never count). One trick I've learned to stave off the spiritual costs of moving is to have beloved television shows provide background noise for the packing marathon. Unfortunately, our DVDs were among the first things that were packed--I sure hope someone got fired for that blunder--depriving us of the first eleven seasons of The Simpsons (I consider anything after that to be fan fiction, at best). But Netflix streaming has sufficed. We started with Archer (you can add season three anytime, Netflix), before moving onto Parks and Recreation, which we're now through for the third or fourth time. Turns out Bob's Burgers is available for streaming, so that'll probably be next. We could shotgun Arrested Development again, but I seems a waste to stream a show I already have on DVD, even if the discs are presently confined to a box at the bottom of a mountain of boxes. It'd be nice if Party Down were still available; almost as nice as if Party Down had never gotten canceled

It'd be nicer still if my laptop's backlight hadn't given out, leaving me without a portable method with which to reach Netflix. My wife has a working laptop, of course, but she's been using it to feed her mild addiction to Bar Rescue (a show that's inspired a few thoughts, some of which may end up here soon).

I suppose I could watch the Republican National Convention while I finish packing (or the DNC, for the unpacking), but I don't hate myself that much. Sure, it means passing up a few scraps of semi-decent blog material, pried from the sickly muck of over-cooked tripe. And, yes, it means missing out on the handful of short-lived, shorter-traveled memes that will spring from the accidental belch of one professional bloviator or another during the otherwise uber-choreographed circle jerk. But, again, the required level of disregard for my basic well-being is a little beyond my reach at the moment. I'd like to be able to live to see my next apartment.

This is all longhand for saying that there may not be a lot of updates round here for a few more days. Enjoy the last weeks of summer, children. Fall will not be so kind.