No need to worry any longer about how I’m going to get my shelves down when I move. No, you can put your worries to rest. For, tonight, my second shelf fell off the wall, taking my third shelf with it. My fourth shelf is long gone, remember? (This is where I insert the link to my post about how long it took us to put up my shelves in the first place, only to have one fall off immediately, but it’s past 4 a.m. and I can’t find the post.)

I guess I should be thankful that my music box that my dad gave me when I was about 7 and sick in the hospital or my prized Sherlock Holmes-style magnifying glass didn’t break. The only thing that did break was a plate of my roommate’s that I hadn’t managed to take out to the sink yet (shhhh.. don’t tell!) And that my box of photos spilled out one way and the water that was in my bamboo spilled another. Mostly I’m just pissed, though. And tired. I just got done cleaning up the entire mess. Going back to sleep now. Goodnight. Pray for me that the top shelf doesn’t come crashing down.