When we last left our intrepid adventurers, Derek had just escaped the jaws of electronic death. With a refreshing night of sleep behind them, they awoke to face a full day of truck packing . . .
I wish I could blame what transpired on our second day of packing on someone else, but that would be denying the real source of the problem: we are among the overstuffed. Despite our continued desire to live a less material life, we still possess too much crap.
The day before the big move proved hectic as they always do. We ran last minute errands, took Baby G for his 2 month doctor's appointment/innoculations, and arrived back at home to meet our friends and family for a full afternoon/evening of packing. As the evening wore on, patience disappeared and tempers flared. By 9:00 PM, as we finished loading most of the furniture, it became painfully apparent that we weren't going to fit some of our posessions on the truck. As one might imagine, I launched into a tirade of f-bombs that would make even the most foul-mouthed of individuals blanch. Needless to say, my in-laws now know the full extent of my foul-mouthed fury. Even STK, usually the most even-tempered person I know, let loose with a few expletives. By 10:30, STK and I resigned ourselves to leaving our desk chairs, rocking chair, artwork (we have a considerable amount), and several boxes of cleaning supplies behind. Our moving budget trashed (unexpected airline ticket + another truck rental + more gas = slight consternation), I stormed around the condo in an absolutely foul temper.
Before going to sleep around 1 AM, however, we encountered yet another surprise. In all the hectic packing, someone stashed the AC adapter to our remaining phone, as well as our dog leashes, in an unknown location. As our cell phone was still in service, the phone issue proved a minor inconvenience. The dog leashes were another matter. About to embark on a 940 mile journey with pets, we needed the damn dog leashes. We spent what seemed like an eternity digging through boxes only to discover that someone placed the leashes in Baby G's bouncy seat. WTF?
In the end, we realized that most of the packing mishaps resulted from our poor planning. The dog leashes, and anything else we didn't want packed, should have been placed in boxes and stored in a designated "No Packing Zone." We also needed to purge some of our stuff before the move. Do we really need three televisions when we only watch one? Why do I keep hauling around an entire box of MA thesis drafts and notes?* What about those two sets of pots and pans?** Does STK need 53 pairs of shoes? Do I need dozens of black comic book and band t-shirts? How about the dozen our so boxes of comic books?*** A serious purging was needed before the move. Alas, we blew it and tried to bring everything.
Physically and emotionally exhausted, we retired, knowing good fortune awaited us on the morn. What a laugh. The Trickster lurked in the shadows, waiting to teach us the true meaning of powerlessness.
*On arriving at our new home, I recycled 3/4 of those notes.
**One set is now marked for donation to a local charity.
***Okay, there's no way in hell I was parting with my comic books. STK gets to keep the shoes.
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