If I had a dime for every friendly resident of this wonderful community that has asked me when my next prize-wanting column would appear in the paper … I would have a dime. Thanks, Tom.

I’ve been waiting for what I’m about to pen to fall into the “amusing anecdote” category — but nearly four weeks later that is no closer to happening than I am to flossing every night.

So before too many of the events of that fateful week become a distant memory, like my long-forgotten 32-inch waistline, I figure it might be best to get it out now. Time to give up that skinny waistline ghost and loosen my writing belt. Let’s just hope nobody gets hurt.

After nearly a year apart, I have finally moved my wife, son, two dogs, bearded dragon, spotted gecko, tortoise, and most of our home’s belongings here from our quiet, seaside lives in Maine.

Yes, they agreed to the move; what kind of a question is that?

The Burnette family has landed. But it was not easy.

Several months earlier my wife reached out to a number of moving companies, and finally settled on one out of Florida, which makes perfect sense “when you’re moving from Maine to Ohio”, I say with rich, Maine maple-syrup flavored sarcasm.

I won’t mention the actual name of this company — but let’s say it rhymes with Infinity — and she chose it because according to her, “They sounded like a nice Christian moving company.”

Lovely. This is going to turn out great. Pass that syrup and get me more flapjacks.

Rhymes with Infinity offered a three-day arrival window, which we thought was great, and they presented a very reasonable quote for the job. After the agreement was signed and the deposit deposited, they clarified that the three-day window was for them, not for us.

Rhymes with Infinity was supposed to arrive on Tuesday, June 28 to load our belongings. We got a call on Monday late afternoon telling us they will not be arriving Tuesday after all, and that they’ll be calling us Tuesday to let us know what time Wednesday they’ll be arriving. What could possibly go wrong? Warm up that syrup Mitch, hope you brought a case.

Rhymes with Infinity calls us Tuesday late afternoon to tell us they won’t be arriving on Wednesday, and they’ll call us sometime Wednesday to let us know what time they’d be coming Thursday. We reminded them that Thursday was the last day of that magical three-day window, and the new owners of our house are moving in first thing Friday.

We were told, “Not our problem.” Comforting.

Thursday rolls around, we get a call, and “Sergio” we’ll call him, since that’s the name he gave us, tells us he’ll be rolling in around 2:00, maybe 3:00, possibly 4:00. He also takes a moment to confirm with us that we have a one-story house.

Um…close … three stories, a basement, and a pool house. I’m not bragging, you just need to know the whole story.

2:00 and no Sergio, 3:00 no Sergio, 4:00 no Sergio. 8:17 at night, Sergio arrives in a rental truck; we won’t say the name but let’s say it rhymes with Fudge It. It’s only a 26-footer, hardly big enough to fit the belongings of a one-story let alone our humble, white-trash Maine mansion.

Little known fact about yours truly — I’m spatially challenged, hence trying to fit into a 32-inch waistline pair of trousers, so maybe I simply don’t know what I’m talking about, like that’s a first.

Sergio unlatches the back of the Fudge It door, and looky there, we’re sharing our 26-foot Fudge It rental with another family whose stuff is taking up one-third of this already too-dinky of a hauler.

My how time flies … I see I’m already on the warning track, the six-hundred plus words of this column and I’m sure Tom is concerned about how long it’s taking me to get to the meat of this story, as am I. Maybe this ought to be a two-parter.

Let’s bring this incredible opening to a suspenseful closing…

Will Rhymes with Infinity’s “Sergio” load all of the Burnettes’ belongings into the circus clown-sized Fudge It rental truck? Will the new owners of the Maine white-trash mansion successfully move in on Friday morning? Will Steve ever fit into those 32-inch waistline trousers again? Just who is this Mitch? And finally, who says trousers nowadays?

Join us for the next riveting column to find the answers to these and other enticing questions, coming soon to your favorite newspaper, the News Journal, where News comes first, then Journal.

Steve Burnette is Executive Director of the Murphy Theatre.