In two months, we have to be out of this apartment. I bought boxes, today, at the big store. The boxes cost three dollars apiece. Moving is not cheap. In the old days, I used to go to the grocery store and beg the guy stocking apples for banana boxes. I may have to do that this time, also.

I'm not proud; banana boxes are fine, though they can be a bit sticky and yucky. I'm boxing my second level books, today. These are books that I'm not intimate with, but don't want to get rid of for one reason or another. One reason is that my hope is that my daughter may want to read some of these titles that I grew up on. So far, she has demonstrated no interest in the books on my bookshelves, but she is a voracious reader. She likes new books from the bookstore, so far. I am happy that she is a reader. I guess this is because I am a writer. My daughter claims to have enjoyed the little bits of my writing that I have fed to her over the years, but, really, what can she do but offer me praise.

"Father, your writing sucks. Please don't bother me; I'm reading a great book, right now," just wouldn't cut, now would it?!