We have been moving out of our house for the last two weeks. All of our stuff is in crates, somewhere between Colorado and Germany. Somewhere. I have no idea. Today we were scheduled to turn in our keys and all that jazz. Of course, they decided that the house wasn't clean enough, so I am going to go over in the morning and sweep and mop and scream and yell. (Think Annette Bening in American Beauty.) (If you don't get that reference, I may have to stop speaking to you...) I spent yesterday cleaning as well. The big stuff, fixing a few things, and making sure that nothing was so horribly broken we'd have to pay for it. And that my friends, is where things took a hilarious turn for the worse. I glued a shelf back to the pantry wall. With Gorilla glue. And then I noticed that Holly's stroller wheel hadn't attached like I wanted it to. So I took the glue and fixed the wheel. Except it didn't end as well as I had hoped. The lid popped off, and the glue dripped on my pants. And I thought nothing of it. Until I stood up, and my pants were glued to my leg.