So I spent most of this afternoon sprucing up the house for presentation to prospective new roommates, and this meant lugging most of Neill's stuff into his room (which is beautiful, and brightly lit as he never closes his blinds) and permuting some elements such as my TV from its perch atop the IKEA light sea-green table named "Olson" to a smaller cart, shoving lots of things into closets, and the like. Then it was frantic, drunken stirfry until off to an underattended graduation party where, while educated at the etiquette of spelling bees, I was more concerned about the future than anything else--tons of applications and cover letters yet to write. It's freaking me out, or beginning to, at least. Still, it'll be OK, though I'd rather be a coach than a teacher at this point... And coaching years do count toward principalships.