It’s only two days out of the house — two days that will be over with by the time you read this. But it already feels like an eternity … and we haven’t even left yet. We’re still packing to leave. It’s quite a process, prepping a house so the termite people can erect their grand circus tent of horrors. They’ll pump it full of gas, eradicating all those wood-eating critters who think my 100-year-old domicile is a McDonalds drive-thru. The termites have been coming out in little swarms, dancing about like drunken spring breakers. “Party-on, dudes,” I tell them. “Enjoy it while you can.”