Everything’s moving along just fine – of course we’re in the middle of moving hell – but we’re making good progress and the light at the end of the tunnel is shining brighter. I leave to make my final drop off to Goodwill and then deposit my last paycheck (eek!) and pull into the gas station to fill up the tank for our departure tomorrow. And then I sprained my finger.

Now, you’re probably thinking, how do you sprain a finger while getting gas? I, too, am asking myself that question. I have been getting gas for decades and never have I sprained my finger. I guess when I shut my door I miscalculated the weight of the door and gave it a shove with my index finger without realizing the weight and it was enough to give it a sprain or overextension or whatever you call this. All I know is it hurts. And that the VW Eos doors are damn heavy. My VW Cabrio door was never that heavy.

So tomorrow is crunch mode as far as the final day of moving – movers coming, final cleaning, and here I am with a damn hurt finger on my left hand, of course, because I’m left-handed. It’s a good thing I have been doing most the cleaning as I’ve been packing because this hand is not in any condition to scrub.

But all of this begs a bigger question. If I could injure myself by closing a car door incorrectly, how in the hell am I going to function on a sailboat? To say I am not mechanically inclined is a vast understatement. (Just ask Lawson, he’s seen my slick moves with the packing tape for the past three days.) And let’s not even think about my total lack of any kind of sense of direction. These unfortunate traits of mine don’t bode well for our journey.

Well it hurts even to type (though it’s amazing how easy it is to sub the middle finger for the index and not really slow down) so I will leave you with a few flashbacks of today (other than the lovely injury at the gas pump.).

Short man with a big truck and big muscles pulling into the cul-de-sac at 7am and loading up everything we put on the Craig’s List curb alert. I can’t say I was sad to see Lawson’s lamp table with the bad lampshade go, but I was sad to say goodbye to my comfy leather chair. It has served my lounging self well for over a decade. But it was starting to look pretty rough around the edges.

Cleaning the back patio and discovering several Coors Lights leftover from my family’s visit in the cooler, in cold water and they were still cold. Nice! Thanks for the goodbye gift brother Chris!

Tristan running by with his stuffed red panda bear wearing my $400 glasses.

Aveda hydrating hair mask perfect accompaniment to a day of packing and cleaning – smells so good! Left it on for five hours and my hair is totally renourished. Probably the only good hair day I’ve had in Las Vegas.

Lawson getting choked up over the goodbye gift and card to Tristan from the adorable boys across the street, Ketia and Yota.

One of my last pieces of mail: Vanity Fair. Got here in the nick of time. Will be great reading for the car.

Lawson hooked up the gadget that plugs into my car and let’s me listen to my i-phone over the car sound system. Now I can travel cross country being entertained by Marc Maron and his WTF podcasts. Love that show. And Fresh Air, too. (Note: can only listen to WTF when Tristan has earbuds in and watching a movie because unfortunately, the language is not appropriate!)

And last but certainly not least. A knock on the door. Opened it expecting one of the neighborhood boys, a package or a Craig’s List stalker and there stands my gorgeous cousin Natalie. Came by to say goodbye. Reconnecting with her and Mindi and Megan, as well as my aunts and uncles in Las Vegas, Jim, Alice, Don and Susie, was truly the best part of Las Vegas. We were also thrilled to attend Natalie’s wedding and see other family members who flew in for it – a sort of mini reunion last week. It was great to see her one last time and as I hugged her goodbye I was sad but also glad that we had gotten the chance to reconnect after so many years.

My gorgeous cousins: Natalie with her handsome new hubby Will and Mindi with her future heartbreaker son Josh.

Ok, gotta give my fingers a rest. Tomorrow we say goodbye to 9455 Hot Breeze Street. (Yes, that’s right. The name of our street is Hot Breeze. You can’t make this stuff up.)