So, the upstairs neighbors gave us the grand send-off. I could actually follow the bed's migration across the room, traveling what I can only imagine are well-worn, er, ruts. After an impressive bout, they took a pausa - smoked a few cigarettes, used their bedside crotchfire extinguishers, popped their hip joints back in place, whatever. Not five minutes later, they were at it again. I suppose it's more efficient to f*ck the bed back into place than to drag it across the room.
Anyway, I just packed a box that contained a bundt pan, a pair of swim goggles, and a kappa delta shot glass. The end is nigh.