Sis and the gang came over a little earlier this morning, and she found that there had been a hole punched out of her wall. Punched, because it's fist-shaped. She did not do that. I did not do that. The Little Fayoumis did not do that (it's at the wrong height, he lacks the arm strength, and it's too big to be his). It had been covered over with a picture, the one picture that marxdarx had not taken down. She called him about it, and he denied having done it.
And that, of course, has severed ties between him and us entirely. It could have been no one else.
Most of everything is moved, except for a few little odds and ends here and there, and the last of the essential stuff that involves the phone line and the shower. I'm exhausted, dead on my feet, but still moving things and myself. It'll get done.
Darkside is excused from It's Your Duty As A Best Friend To Help Move; What Kind Of Friend Are You?? because of his help last weekend above and beyond the call of duty at the expense of my cordless phone's battery.