so I'll let you know, if you need somewhere to go

She's sitting in the living room watching her second Star Trek rerun of the afternoon and I'm hiding in the office where she supposedly did me a "favor" by allowing me to put my bed here for two months. My desk collects dust in the garage, along with plastic containers filled with my belongings. They've waited since January to be unpacked, but my things aren't allowed in her office.

Little does she know, I've already made alternate living arrangements with new roommates, will check out my new home after work on Thursday, and if all goes according to plan will start moving out by this weekend. I hope she finds these things happening awfully fast.

Her blogs are sheer comedy. She describes herself as easy-going. A few months ago I would have agreed, but now I know better. She calls herself "happy-go-lucky," yet just last week considered herself "probably clinically depressed." I don't know who she'll be next week.

She says her friends "ROCK!" for getting her through her misery. There's nothing wrong with friendship. Friends are great. But family trumps friendship every time.

You'll know why when you arrive home late at night and your family stayed up to talk and watch SNL with you. When your sister breaks down what an asshole your roommate is over Thin Mints in the living room. When your mom takes you out for groceries and makes you awesome fajitas. When your dad hands you a beer, tells you his theory about your roommate stealing the rent money, and reminds you help's always a phone call away.

When your whole family says they'll drop everything to come and help you move, just name the date and time. That's when you'll know -- or be reminded, like I constantly am -- how amazing your family really is.