It was sad, I can't lie. We were happy to see each other and all, but up and moving to the Keys, then moving from the tiny house to my current place, was all about Neal and me. It was sort of hard to see all traces of Neal � and many traces of �us� � steadily erased from my surroundings.

Especially his big, stupid desk that was such a pain in the ass to move. Both times. God, I hated that thing. He made me help him maneuver it into that teeny first house, and then around the corner into the second house, and it was the biggest bitch. But he always used it as an example of what a trooper I am - how he couldn't believe it, but I sucked it up and helped him move his big damn thing without complaining, and how sweet of me it was to do that. Well, he broke it into pieces over the weekend, and now it's sitting at the end of the driveway, waiting to be picked up by waste management.

It was always just a symbol of how well we worked together, and now it's a pile of scrap wood. I know it's retarded, but I'm getting choked up right now thinking about it.

We laughed a lot, too. Neal says it was the most fun weekend he�s had since he left.

His rental car had a talking GPS. Coolest little gadget ever, but I�m still amazed that someone as paranoid as Neal even got near the thing.

Every time he�d turn it on (and he�d use it for everything, even places we�d been 87,000 times before), I�d be all, �Oooo. Big Brother is watching you.�

And every time the damn annoying thing would start talking, I�d be all, �Shut UP! You don�t know! I live here, not you, bitch!�

That usually got him to turn it off.

Hey, want to know how post-death therapy went last week?

Weird. Good, I think, but weird. The counselor kind of re-affirmed a lot of things I'd been suspecting anyway. Like, nope, I haven't accepted this deep down, and yes, it's going to hurt like hell when I do. Can't wait. The funny thing was, I've been trained in interviewing people so that they'll tell you all their deepest secrets, what with being a filthy journalist and all. Well, she kept trying to pull all of my own tricks on me. I kept wanting to return her steely gaze, and say, "I'm onto ya, sister."

Hey, I passed another test in Tae Kwon Do, and now I�m a green belt. A very bruised and beat up green belt. The test, and the class before the test, were rough. My wrists are all sorts of black-and-blue, which prompts people to tell me I should get a nicer boyfriend, which prompts me to tell them to shut the fuck up. In fact, I�m taking a break from the martial arts until I don�t look so much like the fruit at the bottom of the pile.

Tennis, anyone?

(I actually may play tennis tonight. That's not just a cliche comment/lame joke. Just making sure you all knew that.)