The Working Committee for the Smooth Operation of thejamjar.com has filed a report damning the working procedures that have been implemented for 2006. Seems they suck. Seems they suck *so bad* that half the Committee has resigned and the other half has retired to their local Hotel to drown their sorrows. The official statement from Management claims the new protocols seemed "like a good idea at the time" but "aren't working as expected" and "suck. Suck real bad.." They also mentioned a series of "technical hitches" that have meant updating an online presence has been delayed. Although there are many glitches in processes around the Smooth Operation of thejamjar.com, the basic Feng Shui can't be addressed until the next round of Budget Allocations. Management, meantime, will be reviewing the Working Committee's findings and formulating a plan to address the issues. But first, they need coffee.

Don't form a plan - First rule of moving badly: do not formulate a plan. Second rule of moving badly - do NOT formulate a plan! Don't do any prework - Under no circumstances is any prework to be done. This includes collecting packing boxes, wrapping crockery, phoning moving companies or booking trailers. Don't keep moving - Frequent stops are required. preferably on the sofa and / or bed. Staring at things is a helpful way to make these stops last a long time - it's okay to stare at all the work you need to do but no not make any sharp or sudden movements towards doing anything. Don't get up early - Even if you wake up at 6am then again at 7am and again at 7:30am and 8am and 8:45am - do NOT get out of bed before 11am. Don't turn the television off - You might miss a vital and important infomercial or a program repeat. Even if you're not actually watching stuff, it will help give a boost to any stress levels you're already feeling. Don't label boxes - this goes without saying but also remember, to not pack intuitively. You're not really going to need that hair dryer or those black trousers on Monday morning. Don't organise transport- toy with the idea of *carrying* everything to your new residence if it's only 5kms up the road. Don't organise storage - Leave hiring storage until you have all your belongings on the back of your trailer, truck and / or car. This will save you at least one nights storage fee as you'll need to leave said belongings in your trailer, truck and / or car. Follow these few simple steps and you, too, will experience on of life's most character-building exercises. Remember, whatever doesn't kill you, makes you grumpy and able to test your closest relationships. The ties the bind are the ones that mean the most.

I walked in right after the initial eruption. He was crashing things around on the bench and the sink the way I used to do when I got angry that no one had tidied up while I'd been gone. He looked at me. I can't even remember ever seeing him mad before. "Michelle," he said "perfect fucking timing. How're you?" I don't think he really wanted to hear the answer. I perched myself at the kitchen bar and watched him wash the living daylights out of the china in the sink. They were obviously trying to contain the emotion that'd sparked right before I'd arrived. I wondered if I should stay or go - not knowing which - I did nothing. The boy stomped in. Then out. Then in again and It flared up for another set-to. "Well somebody had better go out and find the fucking dog" he seethed, "if someone other than me would think about that animal for once it would be a fucking miracle." "The dog's gone?" I asked. I know their pup had a habit of bolting at every given opportunity. "Yes" he seethed "all fucking day, since I left for work this morning. God only knows where he is by now." his attention turned to his eldest boy "You know that yard doesn't hold him; why did you leave him there?" The boy barked back "The yard does hold him!" "It bloody does not, he can jump that fence!" "I made it so he couldn't jump the fence there's no way he got out of there!" Voices were louder, things were getting crashier, they weren't going to worry that I was standing in the middle of their family argument - no holds were bared. Hammers _and_ tongs. Dishes being forced clean and shoes being shoved on. The boy was going to find the dog. He slammed the door on his way out. Silence. Perched on the kitchen bar. Silence. I noticed a cup in the pantry. "You have a Sarah's Garden cup?" He looked around "Oh.. oh.. that thing? That's yours." He was rubbing the surface off the granite counter with a dishcloth. It certainly looked like mine but I couldn't recall anytime I would have brought my cup around let alone left it here. I walked over and picked it up, examining it to see it was exactly the same as my cup. Maybe it was my cup, I wracked my brain. "I've never brought my cup over here have I? How can this be my cup?" I was having a complete alzheimer's moment. "You didn't" he said, opening the fridge "we bought it for you - it's your Christmas present." I was stunned "Which," he continued "you could have opened on Christmas morning if you'd bothered to show up!" They'd invited me over for Christmas breakfast but, between the fizzy booze and the russian fudge at Greg's place, I'd fallen into a hypoglycemic coma on the couch and never made it. "You bought this for me?" I was so touched and surprised "Do you know now expensive these things are? I mean.. no one pays fifty bucks for a coffee mug." "Apparently, we do." he said, taking the bottle of wine from the fridge door and putting it on the counter next to the two wine glasses "Mine's the big one, by the way and you're pouring." I smoothed my hands over the mug, not so much for the fact I liked it as that they had bought it for me and I said as much to him. "I'm going to leave it here so I can use it when I come over." I put it back on the pantry shelf where I'd first seen it and saw to opening the wine. I poured heavily into his glass and said "You love me, you really love me! I really am part of the family!" he lifted his glass and said, "What a fucking fine family it is." and took a deep drink from his glass. The boy had come back, slamming the front door with a irritatingly cheery dog in tow "You're a cock, Ron." he said to his father. "Fucking charming, Rick." he said to his son. "Welcome to the family, Michelle."