I am. We are. We drove over 2700 miles in 6 days.
Everything fit in the back of a rental minivan....all of my mom's (and dad's) papers, plus one more quilt, a linen tablecloth, my dad's desk, and a bookshelf Dad built (which matches the dressers in my dining room, also built by Dad).
Beastie has been in agony since Ogallala. The doctor put him on Vicodin today, along with an antispasmodic and an anti-inflammatory steroid to get him to the point of functionality. I've never seen him in this much pain, even when he was playing football in college (although that ankle injury before senior year is pretty close). Thank God our neighbor saw Beast getting out of the car and came over to help unload...there's no way I could have done it alone or with the pain-wracked body of the person to whom I'm married. There were a couple of times on the road today that I was close to crying because of the pain he was experiencing. All I could do was drive as quickly and safely as possible home so we could get him to the doctor. I told him tonight that if he gets any worse I'm taking him to the hospital. And he didn't really argue.
Aside from that, Sparky called Saturday night using my Reg's cell phone. He and Jean had taken Sparky out for dinner (at Pizza Hut, in Oxford...sigh). I guess Sparky was so tired he ate only one piece of 'za and nearly put his head down and slept at the table. His roommates are apparently night owls who jump on the beds till the early hours. Oh, the trauma of an only child. I didn't have this kind of experience till college, so this is a learning experience that money can't buy. He may be more grateful for small things, like peace and quiet, when he gets home! Otherwise, he's fine and having fun.
Time to fold laundry. Then to bed. I'm off to work tomorrow; obviously the Beast will be "working from home." Now you all know that translates as "drugged to the gills watching poker on TV and IMing his coworkers all day."