My walls are bare, my entire life is in various boxes – and my whole world is completely turned upside down.

While the above sounds like the result of a hurricane or a tornado – it is actually the result of moving. Considering the fact that I will be sleeping in my new apartment this Friday night, I had to start packing, and after some very serious procrastinating – I finally started packing this morning – and in only eight hours – I have completely lost control of my home life.

Right now, there are ten packed and sealed boxes in my kitchen. In those ten boxes are everything from my DVDs, to my ticket stub collection, to my price guns, to my fan mail, to my 45s, to my books. While having boxes full of your stuff may be the obvious norm when it comes to moving – it is nonetheless driving me insane – and this is only the first day of my moving experience.

In the last eight hours, I needed a pair of scissors to cut some proofs, but realized they were packed away. A little later, I needed the number of my hairdresser out of my Rolodex – but once again realized that it was packed away. And besides those reminders, the fact that frames that hung on my wall only this morning are now on my floor makes it clear that I am right in the middle of transition – with no way out until its over.

As I walk through what will soon be my old apartment and see nothing but bare walls and empty shelves, I am reminded of the 375 days that I spent here. In some ways, I feel like I have lived here for a long, long time – and in some ways – I feel like I have spent more time in some motels that I have stayed in. But no matter the time I spent here – each day was bliss. The fact that the only reason I moved here was to escape drama and negativity made it an automatic but temporary sanctuary. And in the one year and ten days that I spent here, I went through a lot. I saw Mary for the first time since SPC2 and shared a chapter of my life with her from the weekend of “The Blackout” until November of 2003, I began my own Public Relations company, I hosted four South Park Mini-Conventions – and I was lucky enough to be visited by Summer three times. But despite those wonderful memories and more – I will have to leave this place on Friday – but I will leave with fond memories of the 375 days that I spent here – as I now move on to the next chapter of my life.

While packing up all my stuff may suck, the real Hell is going to be on Moving Day, which is Friday. With a “Man With A Van,” a few friends by my side to help me carry my furniture down four flights of stairs – and Christine to take care of Beavis – hopefully this move will be less painless than I expected – which I expect to be intolerable.