The countdown is on!

The C-USA basketball tournament started today, and my seats are awesome. If I'm AWOL the next couple of days, there's a better reason than usual: I'm catching some hoops.

Tuesday morning, I made an executive decision: I am moving to Charleston July 19. No more nebulous "sometime in July" crap; Paul and I will make the big move on our sixth anniversary. It's also five years to the day -- our first anniversary, if you can't do the math -- that we moved Downtown to the Mississippi River bluffs. I've put a widget in the left column of this page in place of my favorite Tom Stoppard quote. If the widget is behaving nicely, you can see the number of days left until I move. This is great if you're planning, say, a big Good Riddance soiree. Or even if you're planning a smaller, more intimate Help Kate Pack party.

The Big Date follows another recent executive decision: I'm taking a road trip right after we move. Paul will be putting together his class schedules and lectures, so I'm going to pack up the car and just go. It's the perfect opportunity because (1.) he'll be out of commission (there's a nice little military pun for you), and (2.) I won't be settled into a job or school yet.

I'm trying to convince a couple of friends to triangulate on Warped Tour in Cincinnati, Ohio, July 30. Okay, it's not true triangulation because it's a four-hour drive for one person, seven for another, and nine for me. I've also been highly considering -- if I can con a friend into being my navigator -- taking a week and making a 12-hour trip up the East Coast to NYC. Last year, Paul and I drove from Memphis to New York -- I think a roughly 19-hour drive -- with me doing most of the driving. It was the best trip of my life. From Charleston, it's a nearly straight shot up the seaboard -- and I'd get to linger in Raleigh/Durham, Richmond, Washington, Baltimore, Philly, and Newark before even making it into the city.

Mom would kill me if she knew I was planning to travel that far alone (or even with a friend in tow). Of course, she'd also kill me if she knew Matt stayed over last week while Paul was out of town. Or that I'm ready to get that tattoo I've been talking about for three years.

I'm still not jumping for joy over the move, but having a date on the books means I have a solid idea of how much time is left to clean out, pack, find a place to live, and so on. And knowing I'm taking a couple of weeks right after to travel gives me something to really look forward to.

P.S. Smacky: You, too, can take classes from Elvis' karate instructor, Kang Rhee.