It's Moving Day, and so this is probably the last post I'll be making for a while. You see, we don't have phone yet in The New House. Eventually, but not today. Or Tomorrow, je pense. Too much to do both days to see about it.

I have to work at 9:30.

Tomorrow too.

This all follows logically one thing after another. But, just in case I do not survive this adventure, a short Last Will and Testament:

To E. -- most of my books. The ones that don't belong to other people really, that is. Also: Capet, Lafayette, Oliver Cromwell, and Washington. *s*

To Sophia -- Mike and Stephen. Sometimes I think Q likes you better anyway. And my sketchbooks.

To Puma -- that coyote that keeps following me around. And I'd hope you'd be on hand, as there will probably be a lot of leftover crap only you'd know what to do with.

To Laura and Abby -- joint custody of any of my solo fic. So y'all get Adrien. *grins*

To Fox -- any and all of your boys' petit copains, and also Ana. Oh, and don't worry Henry, you'll get your wife, and I'm sure Mike'll visit you. Of course, this is assuming I outlive you.

To Cori -- Felice and Timothy. *evil grinning* Oh, all right. And Merecule and G-R.

To Jeni -- Alan-Arnaud wants to visit you during the day, sometimes. And you can have my Combeferres.

To Silvara -- Haruka. And anything else of mine Sailor Moon. Kawaii! And you can have Seamus.

To Clay -- I'm tempted to leave you all my dead Nazis, so you can plant briefcases under them, but maybe not. So you can have the Rouge I have hiding somewhere, and my good wishes.

To Javy -- anything Scarlet pimpernel of mine, the disney store catalouges, and conjugal visits from Imogene and Charles-Pierre. And you can have my cat.

To Bug -- See you next time, L'audace.

To Bean -- a rain check for a bottle of very old scotch. And Stephen/Charles says he'll come visit you too. I think he's fond of you.

To Cindy -- Hmm. All my toys. I have lots and lots. And you can have Yarin too. I don't know what else to do with him.

Well now, I think this arrangement pretty much garuntees that all of my friends will work very hard to keep me alive, if for no other reason-- to keep Those Who Live In My Head actually in /my/ head.

Heh.

I go to be buried under six feet of boxes.

Subsequent to six feet of work.

x_x

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