We're oh-so-close to being done with the packing. I even had some success with downsizing my collection of useless belongings. During our recent house-hunting trip we found a place in town: mid-century modern sans the modern. From the orange carpet to the knotty pine paneling, it's a time-warp back to my childhood. Perhaps we're weird, but my wife an I prefer retro-kitsch to the soullessness of sleeker contemporary aesthete. Bonus: lots of space in the basement. I'll have a room just for painting and drawing, another for my library and other resources, and a third for technology. I hope I don't get lost wandering around the palatial surroundings. It's a block from the grocery store; a block from the Ride Glenwood stop; and best of all, a block from our new fave dining spot, The 19th Street Diner, where they know how to cook the fries long enough to be properly crispy.

I have to say goodbye to my DVR tomorrow and wait almost an entire week before the new one from the cable company in Glenwood Springs arrive. We've had a passionate, if obsessive relationship for the past several years. The real tragedy is the entire current season of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" that I have recorded, but not yet watched. I guess I'll have to wait until the DVD comes out indulge that particular guilty pleasure. My wife doesn't share my appreciation of people behaving horribly on TV, and assures me that I'll survive. She might be right. Besides, I managed to burn through all the episodes of Tosh.0 at one sitting last week, so I've ingested an adequate helping of non-PC snark for December.

I've been thinking about the 9.5 hour drive back to Las Vegas that I made Tuesday evening. We had dry roads and no traffic the entire way, so it wasn't at all bad. This coming week, I'll be repeating the trip going the other direction in a U-Haul truck. I anticipate an entirely different (and much more unpleasant) experience. Speed governors and mountainous terrain aren't comfortable companions. Based on my last U-Haul/Rocky Mountain journey, where a jogger in Vail passed the truck I was laboring up a slope, I'm betting on at least 15 hours driving time. Oh well -- I'll sleep when I'm dead.