"Go, sell all your worldly goods . . .

". . . For it would be easier to load a camel into this minivan than to put all your stuff in it. Seriously! Stupid bourgeois college kids all think they have to live like rich young rulers or something."

I hate packing. Not for ordinary trips, mind you. I can live quite nicely out of one bag for remarkable lengths of time. I mean packing — in this case, sorting through all of my worldly goods and preparing many of them for the trip back to school.

My conclusions? I have lots and lots of worldly goods. Including lots and lots of worldly goods that do not fit well into rational containers. Fortunately, my mother has saved every grocery sack she's brought home from Wal-Mart since 1995. (I've acquired the habit myself, by the way. Other than in matters literary, it's the only kind of pack rat-ism that has ever really paid off.)

Oh, and I am not well. My head is clogged like a shower drain on haircut day, and my throat is becoming sore. Whatever this is, I'm not the first in the family to have it. I am thrilled to be able to spread the joy I feel to the peoples of East Texas.