Death is Coming, Hell is moving . . .

Well, we’re in the house. Let’s start there. The great exodus occurred last weekend. My dad, to whom I am quite grateful, came down and helped me and wife move. Someone asked my dad, “Do they have far to move?” to which dad sagaciously replied, “It ain’t how far, it’s how much.” One week and two Penske truck loads later, we’re still unpacking. By the way, Penske trucks rock!!! That hydraulic lift thingy is the bomb, the fuse, and a pack of matches! U-haul can forget about my business until they start putting lifts on the back of their trucks that can effortlessly raise and lower the weight of, oh, I dunno, say, the equivalent of a Honda S2000 with two passengers and a full tank of gas.
So, this week, in my post-exam state, I have coordinated furniture and appliance delivery (and redelivery in a few cases), done battle with the mindless bureaucracy that is the Montgomery Water Works and Sanitary Sewer Board (is it any wonder they have an armed guard in the lobby?), installed Bose in-ceiling surround sound speakers (which produce phenomenal audio reproduction!!!), repositioned sod which my dogs found necessary to reposition themselves, ordered bathroom mirrors (don’t ask), watched Bud Light flow in four TOTALLY inappropriate directions from my defective kegerator tower, and nearly lost my mind when I realized that despite my complete failure to do so, the rest of the world was plodding headlong into the Christmas Season despite my exhaustive refusal to go forth and purchase even the most rudimentary of gifts. I know where our pre-lit artificial Christmas tree IS (garage, second row of boxes, next to the toiletries); but in the triage of unpacking, it ranks somewhere ahead of unsorted photos and significantly behind the box that contains the pile of stuff that was semi-important-but-not-so-important-as-to-require-immediate-attention-which-came-in-the-mail-right-before-we-moved stuff.
Which is to say, MASSIVE kudos go out to my builder (L. Thomas Development, Inc.) and my real estate agent (Myra Pruitt, Coldwell Banker) for guiding us through this process. Lowell, I’m pretty sure a blue cheese stuffed olive appropriately drowned in Ketel One is waiting for you on the back porch.
Finally, whovever can first correctly cite the title of the hymn quoted in the above title get's claim to unlimited pulls on the kegerator, once functional.