What a gift the week of my birthday, to hear that all too familiar squeak of packing tape running over a moving box, interspersed with utterances of "I hate moving!", and "Moving-Schmooving!" The day I have waited for has come. The girls next door are vacating the premises. Well, at least one of them is, but I have a feeling they move as a pack. And just a few weeks before that, the slightly less obnoxious make-up artist that lived above them moved out too. Now, I don't have a whole lot of faith in their landlord's ability to pick tenants, given what we've had to put up with over the past year, but a girl can keep her fingers crossed. Of course this would happen right around the time we're thinking about moving ourselves, but I'm sure we've got at least a few more months here.