As my wife and I hastily throw the last vestiges from our life in the mountains of Washington into the remaining boxes during crunch time (last two weekends in our house), a familiar drum beat arises. It goes something like this:
My Wife: “I’m putting these clothes on the bannister that you haven’t worn in the ten plus years since we moved into the house, but I didn’t want to throw them in the Goodwill pile without your authorization.”
I grunt as I glance at the pile. Oh no…my Disney shirt with Dopey playing the sax is in that pile. I’m clearing the hall closet and tossing into a large pile the towels that have seen better days. Next to the Goodwill towel pile is a bulging garbage bag full of good towels that we have no idea where to put in the condo. They’ll likely make their way to the storage shed we are renting and remain there for the next ten years untouched and unloved.
When we get to the condo I pull out some blue cone shaped thing that I threw into the kitchen box and ask my wife, “What is this?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know why did you put it in the box?”
That is the million dollar question. When we were de-cluttering, we threw out a boatload of crap. When we were packing, we threw out a boatload of crap and yet here we are again wondering how the Disney shirt and the odd blue cone shaped item made their desperate escape from the garbage or Goodwill pile? We could learn a thing or two from those items. I want to know their secrets the next time I’m in a tight corner and someone asks me a question I don’t want to answer. I’m going to whisper to the blue cone, “How did you fly under the radar three times?”
I plan on keep the blue cone because hell, it managed to survive three different rounds of scrutiny. I’m going to imagine that the cone will give me a sage answer to every single puzzling question I pose (kind of like Wilson in Castaway).
I’m sure we will find all kinds of crap hiding in tiny little cubbies and corners of closets, underneath beds, behind couches, and inside night stands. I’m tempted to have the movers just grab the whole kit and caboodle in our bedroom, including everything inside the night stands and dressers. It would save me the time to play the, should it stay or should it go, game for the fourth go around. Oh crap, now I’ve got that song in my head, you know the one that has the lyrics, “should I stay or should I go…” And…now it’s in your head.
So far I’ve managed to find a place for everything in the condo, but the movers haven’t even come to take the big items yet. My wife says we have to be careful or we’ll look like gypsies. We already look like gypsies because the condo’s steps are lined with clay pots that I put my herbs in and the items we bought for the stray cats we feed in the neighborhood (feeder, electric water bowl to keep water flowing in the winter, dog house big enough for more than one cat-again for the winter).
I ask myself what’s wrong with looking like gypsies, the lead in the Hunchback of Notre Dame was hot even if she was a cartoon. Yes I freely admit I am a Disney addict. I stopped short of having kids, just to be able to take them to the latest Disney movie. I don’t dare ask this of my wife, though.
The final moving activities do feel like Deja Vu to me as the same questions and challenges rise up to meet us. My current mantra is that it will all be over soon and we’ll get to enjoy ourselves in DC without worrying about selling the house and moving (at least I hope so). It’s not a done deal until the papers are signed which we’ve scheduled for the day the movers come because life was getting just a little too boring for me.
Speaking of obstacles and challenges, all good romance novels contain a little bit of angst and challenge until the main characters reach Nirvana. Check out my books to find out what the characters have to endure or face before reaching their happy ending.
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