A Little Farklempt

There are boxes in the hallway and lamps on the floor. A mountain of bent hangers. Bags of old clothes and shoes destined for Goodwill. Someone is moving out today. It's not the SJG. It's not hubby. Who could it be? Hang on. Let me think about it. Give me a second. You know I don't like to be rushed. It's still early. The caffeine hasn't caffeinated me quite yet. The brain is slowly cranking into operational mode. Let me take another look around and get back to you. Oh. There's a Kanye poster. A coffee maker. A Manchester U blanket. And albums. Excuse me. Vinyl. And a record player. Have I slipped back in time? No. None of this is mine. It's his. I think I just figured it out. The youngest son. He's the one moving out today. Moving in with his older brother. The two of them plan to make some noise on the Westside. That's right. Thanks for the clarification. I knew I could count on you. I'm a little farklempt. I'll take all the help I can get.