Further Complications

And there were documents lost, and paperwork re-routed; and errands that needed to be performed again; and the liquor store had to be raided for boxes, boxes, and boxes. Life needed to be coaxed and cajoled into storage, while mounted upon the wall, a large clock had been fastened, always tick-tocking it's heavy gears closer to that line, past which it all changes: location, location, location, the ultimate differential. The hands of that time-piece will not be altered now, finality's course is staid, now watch the metaphysical teeth of its inner workings grind the future closer... there is still so much to do; but, by heaven, the time for filling out forms is past.

I'm not signing one more piece of paper.