A couple of weeks ago a new set of neighbors moved in next
door,.
A young couple with a new baby.
Either that or an old baby with a great complexion.
I mention this because I just noticed a pile of boxes by the
curb awaiting the recycling truck’s arrival.
And for some reason this brought me back to almost 11 years
ago, when we moved into this place of ours.
When you’re busy living your life you don’t really notice
how much stuff you collect. A lot of it
is minutiae, but it’s your minutiae,
so that makes it important, at least to you.
Some of it’s necessary, like dinnerware, silverware,
glasses, cups, clothes, books, the cable remote, the goldfish…and on and on it
goes.
And once it’s packed….there it is, all neatly stacked in a
pile, awaiting the moving truck.
A life boxed up
Well, I guess in a lot of boxes.
If your life was packed all in one box it would be a pretty
sparse life.
Unless your name is Thoreau, in which case you wouldn’t need
a box at all; just something to hold your pencils.
When these boxes are packed, they become very important
boxes. You label them, “Kitchen Stuff”, “Bedroom Stuff”, “Bathroom Stuff” , “Office
Stuff””, Amusing Stuff”, “Sad Stuff”…even “Unnecessary Stuff”…because let’s face it, all of us have stuff we
don’t need, but keep, just in case we might…someday…just in case.
Like those nice little square pieces of cardboard that come
in calendars, which you might need in case you have to mail something that
requires a stiff backing….or maybe make an “Out
of Order” sign for something, that needs to be marked in just that manner,
on just that size cardboard.
You never know.
Or those little plastic twist ties that come wrapped around
most everything you buy with a plug, or wire, of any kind, actually…you might
need to secure something with one
of those someday….maybe even tomorrow.
And don’t even get me started on all that bubble wrap that
gets shipped to you every week, along with whatever else you ordered from who
knows what mail order place.
Yes…that’s right; I have a box for my bubble wrap…what about
it?
My container of choice was the Kinko's Paper box. Not too big and not too small, plus it came
with a neat little top. And that’s
important because, believe me, with all of my
accumulated stuff, you want to keep a cover on it most of the times
Every Tuesday and Thursday, delivery days, I would drop by
the store and pick up whatever they had disposed of. Sometimes I would walk away empty handed, but
most times I would score at least one or two; on a good day maybe three or
four.
Again, it may not sound like a big deal to you, but to Z and
me those were celebratory days.
“We scored some primo Kinkos!!!”
Z’s an expert packer, in that OCD kind of endearing way that
she has about most things that need getting done.
This is actually a good thing since I’m inflicted with LLNCD...
“Lackadaisical Lazy, Non-Compulsive
Disorder”…so we’re a good team.
Z is so efficient that if something needs doing— say in the
next two months—she’ll have it done by dinner time tonight.
In some situations this is an admirable trait, like if your
appendix should suddenly burst and it needs to be removed immediately.
But at other times, like in moving, two months head start
seems a little on the long side.
Especially if your low on toilet paper and someone…maybe me…mislabeled
the box…such as was the case with the old, previously replaced toilet flappers…that you
might need in a flapper emergency, someday.
But on the other hand, it does allow you the opportunity to
sit for a while and reflect on your life in a box.
And when the move is finally over and you’ve settled into
your new diggs with all your previously packed contents redistributed, the
boxes end up empty and forgotten on the side of the curb. Soulless vessels returning
from whence they came.
In this case Kinkos, but more likely some central recycling center.
What…you wanted poetry?
Life resumes; more “stuff” accumulated.
That’s just how it is.
No matter where we are, or where we go…we always have our “stuff”.
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