It's getting hot in here, let's take off all our clothes.

You know, it's a little warm in New Orleans right now. By "a little warm," I mean that's what Satan would say if he came up from hell to grab some pralines from the Gumbo Shop. "It's a little warm," he'd say, "is the air conditioning on?"

So we're moving into a corporate apartment because TOH isn't ready for habitation and our tenants are moving into Chateau Danneel on the 15th. We've got a POD in our driveway to stash the furniture and extra junk, and next week we'll get a U-Haul trailer to move our necessities to the apartment. Yes, we're such slaves to our possessions we need a U-Haul for just our immediate needs, not including furniture. It's related to having a baby. The apartment is costing us three arms and two legs, but it will be convenient and safe. Plus, they have a pool! Woo, we'll live the life of suburban luxury for a few weeks.

Stella and I checked out a very nice sublet in a charming downtown neighborhood, which would have been great if we didn't have cats and a baby. Poor Stella was having a bad day, and threw up down my shirt as we walked in the door. I think it was a sign. The gentleman who owned the place, a confirmed bachelor you might say, was totally unphased and graciously offered me a paper towel. Nonetheless, all of his precious antiques and objets d'art would have taken too much of a risk if we stayed there, so we had to decline.

Then rather than get throwup on the seat belt in Mr. Nola's car, I took my shirt off and drove home with a hand towel thrown over the girls. Of course, Chateau Danneel is across the street from a high school, so I had to put the shirt back on to get out of the car rather than expose myself to a bunch of innocent kids. Just another day in the life.