Now that I'm moving, what do I do with my hoodies?

Thank you all for the well wishes on moving, especially you, Smack. Although I'm sure the notion has rattled around in the back of my head, it was reassuring to hear somebody actually say that I'm not the first editor in the history of time to be transplanted to Charleston. It's also reassuring to hear it's a beautiful, unique place. Plenty of folks have told me that and I just have to take them at their word. I'll see for myself in a couple of months.

There are still a few people who don't know, like my friend Matt. ("How many guys do you know, Kate, whose names start with 'M' and end with some derivation of 'atthew'?") Matt works nights in another part of town, which makes it hard for me to see him very often in person. And I'm trying, for what it's worth, to tell people to their faces. I like to gauge their reactions. But because I've known for a couple of weeks now and still haven't seen him, I'm considering calling. Or text messaging. It's like one of those e-mail Dear John letters, but totally not.

Well, Paul's home with dinner. It's been a long day ... but par for the course of the past couple of weeks. I think things will lighten up at work in the next few days; I've been working on some special assignments that have taken up a lot of time and should be over soon.

By the way, you know those four boxes of clothes I found in the magical place of Upstairs Land? I still haven't decided what to do with them yet. Thoughts?? Anyway, it is supercool having all my hoodies back. Nobody's been able to pry my black hoodie off (well, except when I'm sleeping and showering). It's like comfort food, but not. Everybody should have a favorite hoodie.