My God, it's full of packing peanuts . . .

For "it," read "everything in the new room that can possibly be made to hold packing peanuts, and then be rigged to make the peanuts explode when their container is opened.." My desk drawers. My dresser. My closet.

. . . My shoes.

I'm starting to get very, very paranoid. Also, snowed in. And, appropriately, sheepish. I think somebody got early warning on the room-change and had some fun.

A lot of fun, actually.

. . . DOUG! How the heck did you find my secret cookie stash and rig it with packing peanuts?

Good God, man, you've been practicing. :)