Moving never really sucked for me. It was always a step up. But this one is hard. There's the emotional side -- 12 1/2 years of living somewhere, longer than I've lived anywhere in my life. Then there's the side where it's just a fuckload of work -- dusting every book, sifting through to see what to keep and what to sell and what's just too cracked out to do anything but donate.
Baz is doing better, which is important. I'm not sure I am, or that I'm even in touch with myself enough to really care.