My mom’s pretty much the best in the world, but those of you inclined to waste five minutes of your time here certainly know that already.

Two examples of why my mom is pretty much the best in the world:

Today, she left a message. “Hey, son. I have literally nothing I’m calling about. Ba-bye.”

I think it’s pretty funny. I called back shortly thereafter, and we wound up talking about not-inconsequential stuff for 15 or so minutes. Highly productive, really.

Yesterday, she called after I returned from a run. She was interested in using the computer to print out a chart that her students could use to help them fill in some information. She’s not the most computer-literate person in the world (though she’s certainly not the least computer-literate, either, by a long shot), but she is somewhat of a technophobe. I was impressed that she wanted to use the computer rather than a ruler or some actual graph paper or the myriad other options at her disposal.

I was even more impressed – briefly, anyway – as the conversation progressed.

Mom: “So, should I use Excel then?”
Me: (hesitating, very impressed) “Yes! Very good. I’m impressed!”
Mom: “Well, I know that sometimes we use it for this kind of stuff at school.”
Me: “Cool.” (or something similarly unimportant)
Mom: (haltingly) “So, what do I do now?”
Me: “Well, first you need to open up Excel.”
Mom: “But I don’t even know where it is!”

I helped her locate the Microsoft Office arrow (not the Microsoft Office Tools arrow), and we opened up the program, and the instruction just wouldn’t translate long-distance. Still, though, the immediate, high-pitched response – “But I don’t even know where it is!” – will remain one of the funniest things I’ve heard in months. Also, she’s willing to try, and that’s certainly worth something.

My parents are also the greatest in the world because they spent a large part of the weekend lugging boxes of my crap up from the basement and, more impressively, hauling old fantastic furniture. I’m greatly looking forward to their appearance in The Ring Fingernail this weekend, largely because of the furniture, and largely because of the free meal(s), but also because of the company. They’re pretty awesome.

The Boy helped move furniture this past weekend, which makes him cool, and my older brother will do the same this coming weekend, which makes him cool. My sister, meanwhile, will offer moral support and, apparently, bathe in whole milk. I’m not sure what that makes her.

Oh, yeah, another conversation with my mom:

Mom: “Hey. We’ve got a lot of lamps. What kind do you think you want?”
Me: “What do you mean?”
Mom: “Well, we’ve got some really nice brass lamps. And we’ve got some chrome ones, too.”
Me: “Well, I don’t really know. What do you think?”
Mom: “The chrome ones are a bit more modern, I’d say.”
Me: “I think I’ll go with the modern ones, then. I’m pretty young and hip.”
Mom: “Oh. Do you really think you want those?”

Pretty funny, too, no?

And, yes, I’m 26, almost 27, and, yes, I’m still using my parents’ old furniture. And the old furniture from my childhood bedroom. And the washer and dryer that they’ve stolen from a neighbor’s trash. But I think – think – that I’m on the verge of buying my own dining room table and chairs. And I’m pretty sure that I’ve stolen a coworker’s old desk, a high-quality desk, she assures me, perfectly on my own.

The move was grueling on a lot of levels, and I’m happy it’s partially done. Last Thursday saw me, essentially, spend the hours of 5:45 until 10:45 moving boxes and furniture and being generally irritable when I received phone calls, and then I spend the hours of 10:45 to 12:15 trying to unpack and get settled (and, well, buy a shower curtain and some cereal and some plastic utensils) before I fell asleep with the lights on throughout the new place. I woke up at about 3:15, sifted through the boxes until I found my alarm, and nearly slept through work. Though I made it, and on time, but I complete sleepwalked through the day. And then, come Friday night, I was home by 6:10 and asleep reading on the floor by 6:25.

But, come the end of the day Sunday, it felt as much like a home as a place with a bed, a chair-in-a-bag, a 13-inch TV that doesn’t get reception, and a laundry basket for a kitchen table can feel.

Part of the reason it felt so much like a home is because my iPod arrived safe and sound on Friday. It was a tough three weeks without it, but I think I’m a stronger person for having gone through it. Let me tell you, friends, I’m quite impressed with the care taken by my pal Nemo to ensure safe delivery. Delivery confirmation. Insurance. Awesome. I picked it up at the post office at 5:50 on Friday afternoon, and it was cranking the tunes by the time I fell asleep on my floor.

One thing that’s been completely rocking my world for, well, the last 24 hours, is the new Bloc Party album. I was almost dismissive of it when I initially wrote about it a few weeks ago but, gosh, there are some absolutely great songs on here. “I Still Remember” is the second single, and really, truly should be a hit. It’s an absolutely chugging, lush pop song. It just moves forward and forward, and the chorus is so bouncy and it’s a sappy kind of young love song, and I just think it’s mass appeal. This album really, really triumphs whereSilent Alarm only really fell short - in its length: A Weekend in the City is just 11 tracks long, and it leaves you wanting more of Keke whatever his last name is. His yelping voice is toned down here, and his lyrical content – the disenchantedness of blacks in Britain, Sudoku, “watching the under-15’s play football in the park,” the effort of teenagers to fit in precisely by acting like their not fitting in, driving to Brighton, witches – is certainly universal. I just think it’s a great album.

Also great was The Arcade Fire’s performance on Saturday Night Live this weekend. And I don’t know if it’s because it was actually funny, or only because Dwight Schrute eventually utters the words “anonymous sex in the Bennigan’s at the Newark Airport,” but I thought this was one of the greatest sketches I’ve ever seen on the show. I watched the sketch twice – once when I got home, and once on Sunday, when I realized that I couldn’t get Ohio State-Wisconsin with my lame-o rabbit-eared mini-TV. I’ve only watched The Arcade Fire’s performances once, but I’ll probably watch again soon enough.

Tonight was the Tuesday Night Running Club. My first appearance since the week before I went to New York, owing to various commitments and things like apartment hunting and packing. So my coworker and I arrived at the appointed location, twenty minutes behind schedule, and nobody was there. Panic.

Then, he invited me to dinner. Then we had some leftover hot and sour soup and some tandoori chicken. And then, friends, I realized that I had won that battle. Not just free food, but free awesome food. Pan-Asian, or something.

Hey, do you realize that, on Thursday, it’s March? I don’t know what March means to you but, to me, it means “Three paycheck month.” Woof. It also means spring, though three days of getting pounded by snow and freezing rain change your outlook.

Still, though, winter number one in The Ring Fingernail has been not-that-bad at all. Once I got used to the actual “always driving when there’s snow falling” thing, the behind-the-wheel time has become relatively easy. Peaceful, even, it a twisted way. But the real reason that it’s not been a winter is because I’ve had a carport. I’ve never had to scrape a windshield in the morning and, let me tell you, it makes life infinitely better.

I definitely – and sketchily – proposed to a neighbor who has a password-protected wireless signal – under his/her email address – that we split the cost. To this point, I haven’t gotten a response. Which is why, as I post this, I’m sitting in a running car outside of somebody’s home. Very cool, and very classy.