Moving on In

I'm still in the desert at my mom's house. I was going to head home tonight, but then both my sisters decided to show up. F will have to move alone. Besides, I don't think I can handle the "piles". That's right - F is a "piler". Before we go anywhere, F must make many, many piles. This is followed by a series of combining and dividing, combining and dividing until he finally makes the perfect assembly of piles and then we can go. This seems like a lovable foible, and that's truly the way I try to see it, but when we're trying to get somewhere and we're already late, this can sometimes seem like an annoying tic. I know it's not.
So, it's really best if I hang out here at my mom's while he moves his stuff into my place. Today was his last day of work; I can't imagine what we are going to do for the next 2 months. He wants to do some traveling. I'd like to go camping. We are also in the process of planning the big move.
I want to have a moving truck show up at my house at the beginning of May, load our packed boxes into the truck, and drive it to DC. This plan seems insufficient to F. Somehow, not quite elaborate enough. He has suggested a variety of schemes, including driving to DC twice, moving our stuff out there a month ahead of time (that'll be fun with the wedding and all) and now he wants to get a Pod. Why? Why would we put all of our stuff in a pod and let it sit in storage while we are living in California with plenty of perfectly good free space. He keeps insisting that we take his 15-year-old, salvaged Acura Integra, worth all of, oh, 600 dollars, to DC. I have assured him over and over that we will get along fine with one car, especially since public transportation is easy and cheap in DC and I work from home. But oh, it would be too easy.
It's like the old Bond films. They catch Bond, but they can't just kill him. First they have to devise some bizarre scheme which will culminate in Bond's death. The video game of death, I believe from Casino Rayale, was the best. Anyway, he always escaped. If there were no elaborate, difficult, cockamamie Bond-death scenes it just wouldn't be Bond. Likewise, if there were no piles and strange, elaborate plans, it just wouldn't be F.
I WON THE DRESS. I won the auction and now the dress is officially mine - sorry suckers! I've also snagged a pair of vintage wedding gloves and I've still got my eye on a certain little hat.
And, my sister is throwing D and I an engagement party/wedding shower so I can see all my friends since they can't be there on my big day. I might have mentioned that - I'm excited.