Greetings from the Green Mountain State.

So I'm sitting in a bakery, which is run by the Culinary School. I have just inhaled a spinach and cheese croissant (I tried very hard to pause and really savor it, but it was small and delicious and I was hungry), and am working my way through a very large cup of coffee.
Since we last spoke, I have driven from Athens to New Orleans and back, stopping to eat and rock and walk and walk and walk and eat and drink too much coffee and take a bunch of pictures and talk to a voodoo priest. More on this later.
After that I ate again at El Sol, packed things into boxes, went out for a final drink with several co-workers, who are very generous and lovely people that I will miss, came home and packed more, slept fitfully, picked up a Monstrous 24 foot Moving Truck drove it, white knuckled, back to the house and up our impossibly overgrown driveway, packed more, packed the truck (with the help of some of those co-workers I mentioned previously), forgot some things, left some things, had a "yard sale" and a final farewell at Happy Hour at Flicker, packed some more, slept a little, packed some more, cleaned as much as possible (but not nearly enough- apologies to John), and finally hit the road only two hours later than planned.
The first day was not difficult, once we got going and I got used to driving said Monstrous Truck. The dogs were in our car with the b.h.'s sister and her fiance'. They were having a good time. We switched vehicles somewhere in North Carolina, and I drove the car into D.C., where we stayed the night. We slept at said sister & fiance's apartment, got up early, and drove again. This time I started the day driving the car, which was a huge relief because as you may or may not be aware, Pennsylvania is chock full of mountains and they were foggy and the roads were crowded and I was glad not to be piloting the Monstrous Truck through them. Glad, that is, until it was my turn to drive the Monstrous Truck and it started to rain. And then it got dark, and there are actually quite a few mountains in this state as well- thus the name, I guess.
Anyway, it was scary, but we made it, and when we got here the exit felt like a vertical drop rather than a ramp, and we discovered that our street is better for goats than people, and probably not good at all for Monstrous Trucks.
Our landlord was waiting for us at the house, which we had seen only in pictures up to that point. It was smaller than I expected, but not smaller than the house we had just moved out of. There were small things that you wouldn't notice in pictures- peeling wallpaper here, non-existent heat vents there, and the fact that the whole place leans, and not necessarily in the same direction- but overall we were happy. Mostly we were exhausted. Also, it had taken longer to get here than we expected, so it was dark and we couldn't get our beds out of the truck. We slept on dog beds and piles of blankets in the middle of the living room. I woke up nose to nose with Wyatt. I am not sure which of us had worse breath.
We were smart enough to hire some help, and two hours later two Very Lanky Movers appeared at the door. They backed the Monstrous Truck into the driveway and began emptying it right away. Two hours later, the truck was empty and the furniture in place, the rest of the house piled high with boxes. The Very Lanky Movers were magical. The only thing that even slowed them slightly was the Giant Oak Bookcase, which they dead-lifted twice and maneuvered through three doorways with nary a complaint. Beautiful. If you ever need to move, let me know. I'll give you their number.