Yesterday we helped our two best buddies move out of their apartment 30 minutes north into their brand-new three-bedroom house. In the process, we learned a few things about moving, among them, how to use a ramp properly, how to cram a sofa into a small elevator (remove the ceiling diffusers) and how you shouldn't cut gas when you're trapped in an elevator with four of your buddies (the smell of a burnt out motor was bad enough). The latter made the whole experience memorable; three fire engines and two squad cars respond to four boisterous filipino adults trapped in an elevator.

Fireman: Stay calm. Baranggay: Hahahahaha! (Clearly they were having fun. We could hear their laughter three floor up.) Fireman: Are you okay in there? Baranggay: We want coffee and donuts.

Overall, five years of married life was transported successfully. A plan to use fiberboard to build makeshift tracks for a huge-ass HDTV set was Trading Spaces brilliant. I've never been happier for them, yet their new digs moved them farther away, and I fear this will sadly put some space between our oft anticipated weekends together. We'll miss the coziness of King of P.

Today, Sunday, we went for a crazy 30-mile city loop with our riding friend. She had out a MapQuest-like directions for our ride that took us all the way down to the Philly Airport, where we got lost on Hog Island Road (which would make a great set up for a CSI episode, you know, where three bikers find a dead body) but managed to find our way back up to University City. Avoiding the trolley tracks was pretty bad, but I had my first crash just slowing down for traffic, as I was unable to clip off my pedals while getting sandwiched between two bikers. Scraped pretty bad but the bruising will last probably until mid-week, then I can ride again. Yipee!