Friday, August 3, 2012

A Life Boxed Up

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”.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Retort to the Retort -

“Is there anybody alive out there…”