I got to see CTA's new home today. For a first place--not too bad. The hallway smells funny, and there was an unexplained chicken wing laying on the carpet outside his next door neighbor's place, but no rats or roaches that we can see. Yet. I don't know what the chicken wing will attract.

We three picked him up, took him to lunch at his favorite new east-side place, then brought him back here to finish packing up the rest of his stuff. On the way back to teh 'burbs we stopped at Goodwill and scored a pretty nice dining table with four upholstered chairs for $55. It's nicer than the first three tables we had in our struggling years.

For the last two hours, though, I have been saying things like:

* "If that box has porn in it, you'd better get it out of here before I see it"

* "I'm not touching those socks. Unless you are going to launder them when you get home, just throw them away."

* "How long has this vomit been here?"

* " For corn's sake, CTA, are you watching tv??? Stop d**king around and get this crap out of here!"

Yes, he's moving out. Not a moment too soon.