One thing about moving, even if you're just moving your stuff from one floor of the house to another, is you find a lot of long lost relics from your past: photographs of people you no longer see, letters from people you let drift away, mix tapes that tell the story of who you were at some given moment better than any photograph ever could. Going through all that stuff this weekend left me with a little nostalgia hangover. And I haven't even gone through the floppy disks that might contain my old writing yet.

Last night I managed to get one of the monstrous Ikea wardrobes dissected and down without doing too much damage to it. Feeling fairly optimistic that we'll be done in time for the beach, so I think I'll go to Burger Club tonight.