Jam-packin’

If you’ve been following the Post since the old days (y’know … last week), then you might know that I’m in the process of moving from my current home in Austin to a new start in Delaware. Right now that mostly means being neck-deep in my least favorite part of moving – the packing.

Oooh, packing, how I hate you! Hold on, give me a second so I can go shake my fist at it.

OK, I’m back. So yeah, packing is a lot of ugh as far as I’m concerned. Still, it can have some perks now and then – particularly when my wife asks me to finally gather all the random, free-range comics from the various cubby holes I’ve let them nest in.

In the end I found issues in almost every room of the apartment – the living room, the office, both bathrooms (shut up), the bedroom and (surprisingly enough) the linen closet.

I can’t be the only one who leaves comics scattered all over the house, right? I think I’ve mentioned it before, but I don’t bag-and-board and climate-control and all that; I’m more of a reader than a collector. And for better or worse, that means I leave comics behind me like Hansel dropping hoagies.

(Wow, that sounds so much worse out loud.)

All in all it didn’t turn out to be as many as I thought it was going to be, but it was still enough to fill another long box. And I only stopped to read a comic, like, twice.

I swear.

Ahem.