The test of a true friendship is helping someone move. You have to REALLY like someone to help them move. I don't mind helping, as long as the the people being moved are organized. I've actually helped someone move who had done ZERO prepwork. Nothing was packed. Serously. Not a thing. So last weekend Tom and I helped our friends Kevin and Melissa pack up their moving truck so they could head back to New York. Let me start off by saying that they were VERY organized. There were about 15 people there helping. Kevin sings in a barbershop quartet, so a lot of the guys helping were fellow crooners. It was great having so many guys around to carry stuff. Now here comes the weird part: Most people, when they take a break, will sit down, sip on same water, and cool off. Not these guys. When they took a break, they would stand around in groups of 4, and SING. It was cool at first, as their voices are very rich and full. But I have to tell you, after about 15 minutes, there is only so much "Danny Boy" that a person can stand. Try and picture the scene. It's about 90 degrees in the house. The only thing left to sit on is the mattress wrapped in plastic. I am taking a break with Tom, and our friends Scott and Craig, and we're just about ready to pass out from the heat. Suddenly, the quartet spontaneously errupts back into song. I looked over at the guys and said, "Do you think this is what it is like in hell? The heat...the constant singing...the beds are all wrapped in plastic sheets...."