It’s in a box in the garage
posted in The Move |Remember back when, when I said we were swimming in a sea of boxes? Well, the tide has returned. We have boxes everywhere. Labeled things like “pappers” and “stuff from hutch/living room” and “pillows” (I think there was one pillow in that box). That’s if there’s any labeling at all.
Somewhere in the garage is a box with all the parts. The parts to the futon. The parts to put the dotter’s bed back together. The parts that hold the shelves up in the bookcases. Those parts.
I had a whole bunch of boxes that I packed at first and carefully labeled on all sides–the room, what was in the box…
Those boxes are somewhere in the garage.
We have a printer somewhere in the garage.
And lamp shades.
And some desk lamps.
Oh, well. At least we have a garage! Woohoo! And, once we unpack, it will be an empty garage, that we can park, say, automobiles in. This is a kewl concept to yours truly.
In the meantime, to all moving company packers everywhere: I am truly, abjectly sorry. I sincerely apologize. I grovel. I will never make you do this again. If we move again, I will be sure that everything is nice and clean. (I leave it up to the imagination of the reader to consider things that were stored above the stove for years without anyone even bothering to look at them until the movers came along…)
This will be a long, slow process.
So we slept in our own bed last night. (Well, OmegaDad and I did. The dotter slept on a pallet beside the bed.) It felt very strange, like when you run into someone you went to high school with, and used to hang with every day, but who now sports a comb-over and talks about “How ’bout them Eagles, eh?”.
