I have found a new circle of hell.

It is the circle that involves moving into a rental beach house without your husband, who doesn't come down for a few more days. The journey starts with your drive down, getting you nice and stiff, just enough to ache as you haul things up three stories. Of course this is October - the beach is still mid-high 70s but it is chilly at night and if the winds change, it could be colder. So we've got mostly shorts and tee-shirts but also some jeans and clunky sweatshirts.

Oh plus my camera gear and laptop, books, markers, pens, sheets, blankets, the Wii and games, DVDs and on and on.

I don't even want to discuss our trip to the grocery store that night and dragging bags up to the kitchen on the third floor.

Let's just thank goodness this place has a hot tub.