I spent the whole day today ripping up carpet, movng carpet from one room to another, changing locks, packing and other difficult things. I'm sore and exhaused and need to be up at a revoltingly wee hour tomorrow for a gruelling day of moving and yahoo boy upstairs set about to his line-dancing at 11pm sharp. Gotta say, it makes it all seem right. It completely washed away the misplaced guilt I was feeling for citing him as a reason I'm bailing on this place.
The question I really have to ask, do people who actually yell "yahoo" know that they are, by definition, yahoos?