At the time I started this writing, it was 12:37 a.m. I couldn't sleep because of boxes. Boxes in the living room, boxes in the kitchen, boxes in the bedroom, boxes in the office, boxes on the patio and boxes outside the front door. Boxes, boxes, boxes, boxes, BOXES!
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A week ago, I was excited about boxes. I purchased 10 at first, then another 10, then another 6 and finally three more boxes. Plus I had some empty boxes in the closet. I had a nice collection now of big boxes, little boxes and medium sized boxes. I even had a few really tiny boxes for really tiny things. Oh, and I also had boxes around the house with stuff already in them.
Perhaps you have already guessed I was preparing to move. Perhaps you guessed correctly. Over the weekend, we moved from a three bedroom house to a two bedroom apartment. Stupid economy but that's for another day. For five days or so I carefully placed all the items of personal meaning or necessity into the dozens of boxes i had collected. I packed the boxes with care, not to make them too heavy and making sure each box was labeled with what was nestled inside the container.
This was going to be the easiest move EVER! Take well packed boxes to the new place and take all the stuff out of the boxes and put everything where it belongs. Pack all the boxes away for another day and move on to more important things like drawing or painting or looking for more jobs.
But something happened inside the ten pickup truck loads and 16 foot flatbed trailer it took to move the boxes and other meaningful possesions. My life got totally disorganized. Perhaps it was the speed bumps jostling the contents of the boxes or maybe it was the sudden stops causing the boxes to shift their contents.
Moving from a three bedroom house to a two bedroom apartment apparently has an inherent set of logistical problems I should have considered, like, where in the heck am I going to put all those boxes of stuff! Plus, somehow along the way, I think some of the boxes mutated into garbage bags full of unmarked stuff which then produced it's offspring of little plastic grocery bags which contained a lot more unmarked stuff. It was the same mysterious way rabbits, guppies and coat hangers replicate from a few to an overwhelming number. Where did all this stuff come from? Do I really have this much stuff?
Three days have now passed since the last box of stuff came off the truck. Most of the boxes now sit, some opened, some untouched. Most boxes have been moved from one place to another to another just to get them out of the way but the one thing about boxes is they are never fully out of the way until they have fully gone away. My life is in those boxes. Somewhere, amongst the boxes of documents, glassware, shoes and knick knacks is my identity, my soul and my well being and I can't find them. For me, at the moment, life seems very chaotic and I hate chaos. For me, it is a very uneasy feeling when I can't unpack who I am and properly display it for the world to see.
What was once organized has become disorganized, disjointed, fragmented and one big chinese puzzle. If I just had the space to put everything away! And so boxes of stuff just sit. They sit in the living room, the bedroom, the kitchen, the office, the patio and by the front door. Perhaps if I could find some extra space then perhaps I could find myself again....and my camera, and the fingernail clippers, and the q tips, and most importantly, the power cord to MY computer. I had to write this on my wife's computer and quite frankly, her wireless mouse sucks.
I hate boxes.
Perhaps you have already guessed I was preparing to move. Perhaps you guessed correctly. Over the weekend, we moved from a three bedroom house to a two bedroom apartment. Stupid economy but that's for another day. For five days or so I carefully placed all the items of personal meaning or necessity into the dozens of boxes i had collected. I packed the boxes with care, not to make them too heavy and making sure each box was labeled with what was nestled inside the container.
This was going to be the easiest move EVER! Take well packed boxes to the new place and take all the stuff out of the boxes and put everything where it belongs. Pack all the boxes away for another day and move on to more important things like drawing or painting or looking for more jobs.
But something happened inside the ten pickup truck loads and 16 foot flatbed trailer it took to move the boxes and other meaningful possesions. My life got totally disorganized. Perhaps it was the speed bumps jostling the contents of the boxes or maybe it was the sudden stops causing the boxes to shift their contents.
Moving from a three bedroom house to a two bedroom apartment apparently has an inherent set of logistical problems I should have considered, like, where in the heck am I going to put all those boxes of stuff! Plus, somehow along the way, I think some of the boxes mutated into garbage bags full of unmarked stuff which then produced it's offspring of little plastic grocery bags which contained a lot more unmarked stuff. It was the same mysterious way rabbits, guppies and coat hangers replicate from a few to an overwhelming number. Where did all this stuff come from? Do I really have this much stuff?
Three days have now passed since the last box of stuff came off the truck. Most of the boxes now sit, some opened, some untouched. Most boxes have been moved from one place to another to another just to get them out of the way but the one thing about boxes is they are never fully out of the way until they have fully gone away. My life is in those boxes. Somewhere, amongst the boxes of documents, glassware, shoes and knick knacks is my identity, my soul and my well being and I can't find them. For me, at the moment, life seems very chaotic and I hate chaos. For me, it is a very uneasy feeling when I can't unpack who I am and properly display it for the world to see.
What was once organized has become disorganized, disjointed, fragmented and one big chinese puzzle. If I just had the space to put everything away! And so boxes of stuff just sit. They sit in the living room, the bedroom, the kitchen, the office, the patio and by the front door. Perhaps if I could find some extra space then perhaps I could find myself again....and my camera, and the fingernail clippers, and the q tips, and most importantly, the power cord to MY computer. I had to write this on my wife's computer and quite frankly, her wireless mouse sucks.
I hate boxes.
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