Thursday, July 30, THE2NDHAND editor Todd Dills moved with his wife, child and THE2NDHAND's south co-HQ to Nashville, Tenn., from Birmingham, Ala. In classic THE2NDHAND-itinerary fashion, he marked the occasion by writing about it in short bursts as it happened, originally on his Twitter page. The results are below. When the itinerary as lit-form was first conceived here (in 2000), Twitter wasn't around, unfortunately, so readers had to take our word for it that things happened -- or at least the writing about the things that happened -- happened in the order and for the duration they did. Now, of course, Twitter is here; call it our little attempt to make art in the midst of the cacophony there, perhaps. This is the first of what we hope will be a continuing series -- about writing, about microblogging, tweeting, whatever you like -- about life. Writers with Twitter pages, if you're interested in doing something similar, get in touch.

11:21 p.m.: which begins the day prior, sandwiched between columns of boxes.

11:24: after attempting to transmit via cell network, wonder whether one has jumped proverbial gun -- message is: network failure.

11:25: pack last glass. Tape box shut. Ponder missed opportunity. Vulcan moons. Barbecue forgone. The inability to explain finality to a child.

11:34: check network outages. Nothing. Drain beer and head for toothbrush. Outside: lightning, cars, thunder. Inside: boxes, trash.

11: 39: sleeping wife, other distractions from toothbrush: a plate that needs a box, a screwdriver. Hell is coat hangers, a wise woman once said.

11:46: say, "Hell is boxes."

11:47: back to toothbrush, this time in earnest -- examine coffee stains left by three years' worth of hour-long drives to office, scant dentistry.

11:53: note what little effect brushing actually has on stains.

11:54: scowl, spit. Network failure. Sleep.

6:50 a.m.: wake.

6:52: set coffee to cooking. Build box to contain coffee grinder, other last things.

7: pack box w/ dishes -- baby sip cups, tupperware, baby placemat decorated w/ farm animals, coffee grinder.

7:15: walk to cafe for wife's coffee expecting to see friend who looks like Patrick Somerville. Closed. Network failure. Send. Network success.

7:30: success is uplifting in matters of moving, a neverending struggle against hell, coat hangers and boxes. In matters of mobile writing, too.

7:38: fold socks. Note ever-increasing number of missing pairs.

8:03: spill contents of toolbox on moving men. Clean up. Count boxes.

8:06: 114.

8:37: excuse oneself: 120.

8:41: apologize again for toolbox mishap, offer water, coffee. Too early for beer?

8:48: life is 120 boxes. Think Forrest Gump. Think Little SC boy with little prospects. Think You.

8:58: eat: last piece of bread in apartment.

9:51: load to Goodwill. Yoga mat. Bags, bags, bags of clothes.

9:58: think of Tom McCarthy's "Remainder": consider reenacting yr last trip here. Try to remember it first. Network failure.

10:03: pass hospital where your child was born. There is beauty in the inability to explain finality to a child. The beauty of process, flux.

10:06: think: you are at crash risk, texting while driving. No, writing while driving.

10:24: MS13: lucky streetwise gang. Maybe unlucky. Return to cleaning, packing.

10:29: DO YOU HAVE NERVES OF STEEL? New reading series, according to M. Ballentine. Pack toilet tissue.

11:04: precariously balanced boxspring and mattress fall over onto wife fiddling with iPhone. Say, "Can we reenact that?"

11:09: wife scowls, supporting the weight of mattress with one hand, phone in the other. Say, "Sorry."

11:23: after some cajoling, reenact falling bed, you in role of wife. Concentrate. Wonderfully harrowing.

11:24: lead mover says, "Can we take that now?"

11:39: dance. Off the Wall. RIP strangest most catchy man in US history.

1:42 p.m.: near out of juice, be reminded by radio it's a good day to leave Birmingham. County employees slashed by 2/3, which sounds gruesome.

2:00: have celebratory drink - wine in paper coffee cup, High Life can - with wife. Load done. Clean done. Bask in boxless echoes.

2:05: watch squirrels pulling plums from tree in courtyard.

2:13: wonder whose and what story you happen to be telling. Finding the I in the midst of formal itinerarying is impossible.

2:16: movers' forgotten items: spool of inventory sticky numbers, roll of brown packing tape, schizophrenic cat, who loved one half the team.

2:17: hissed at and clawed and clearly wanted to destroy the other half.

2:45: choose PBR on trip to Bottletree, home of good food, few readings, much rock. Last stop en route out, really, though cats need picking up.

2:50: ponder what it says about a place when the patio/smOKay corral is dubbed, sinister as all hell, the HOUSE OF REPTILES.

3:38: get in brief argument with wife. About load weight and, of course, money. To appease, obtain free refill by wits at cafe to coffee up for drive.

3:40: shit. Cross out "wits." Coffee is cold. Proceed drinking, in any case.

4:06: guzzle half-gallon OJ. Jump in car. Destination: Nashville. Bye everyone. For now.

4:07: drive.

WING & FLY

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