My Father, who is highly intelligent and completely sane begins almost every phone conversation by asking me about the weather. This is a perfectly normal thing to ask when you live in a place where the high temperature can vary as much as 25 degrees from day to day, but in Atlanta, nearly every day between May and October is the same. Hot. It was no surprise, then, that when moving day arrived and we were forced to prop all of the doors in the house wide open while large, strong men went in and out with dollies full of furniture and boxes strapped to their backs, that it was 95 degrees and sunny. While Samuel made sure the dog didn't escape, I became the Gatorade shuttle bus, driving to QuikTrip for 59 cent Big Gulps. This is why you hire movers. Only specially trained forces can withstand such temperatures while negotiating a six foot grand piano out the front door. Which is why I couldn't watch that part of the move. I had to send the husband. It's during times like these that being married to Superman comes in handy. Seriously. They've never been seen together. Not once.