I have just a moment, as I'm taking a break from packing my office, and that of my boss, for our move next week.

There are boxes everywhere, and the remnants of several predecessors' filing systems, not to mention my own collection of excellent valuables: Madonna Inn postcard book; teeny framed photo of Jonathan Richman; lithograph of toys shaped like squirrels on wheels; assorted glass ashtrays ca. 1960, which hold paperclips and rubber bands; and my wonderful collection of fashion spats, etc., etc., et-ceterahhhh.

So, if you want to be of help, please, please come down and stand at the door of my office. You might want to practice an astonished look, so that you can get it exactly right when you stop in my doorway to assess my progress via loud, jocular criticism.

Some popular phrases include: "Wow!"; "You're the master of disaster!"; and the sarcastically delivered, "Well, you're making a dent in things, I see."

Because I am actually making a dent in things, I do not appreciate the sarcasm, nor the photo that "HAD TO BE TAKEN" of my office, "for posterity" and each subsequent visitor has eroded my patience and good humor to the point where I am considering duct-taping the next offender to the door jamb, as an example to others.

That is all. I'm off to continue packing and perfect my humorless laugh. It's coming along.

Star of the day. . .Porter Wagoner