by Pa Rock
Master of Cardboard
Last Thursday all of the things that I had stored in Phoenix arrived at my new home - in boxes - where they joined the stuff that I had with me on Okinawa - most of which is also still in boxes. That was Thursday. Friday I flew off to Portland and left the boxes and the stress of moving safely back in the desert. Yesterday I returned to Hellizona and those damned boxes were still here waiting on me!
Why couldn't a good Samaritan have broken in and unpacked?
I have set a goal of emptying at least two boxes a day and putting stuff away. Yesterday I did four, and today the total was five - with a sixth cut open and ready to empty. Three of the boxes that I emptied tonight were wardrobes that were stuffed with clothing that I hadn't seen in over two years - all carefully wadded by the packers and movers. Most of it was things that make no sense in the desert, like long-sleeve shirts and sweat shirts - and much of it was transferred to plastic tubs for delivery to our Airman's Attic, a local Salvation Army-type facility for our young airmen and their families. Of course they won't need long-sleeved shirts either, but maybe they can be modified or put to some use - like really nice paint and cleaning rags.
Cardboard is a recycle item, and in order for the trash man to pick it up, all of the boxes have to be cut and flattened - so that is my next big chore. Empty, cut, flatten, stuff in barrel, and repeat...and repeat...and repeat! Ugh!
The only bright spot in the whole process is opening the boxes that have been in storage for two years and becoming reacquainted with items that I should have tossed a long time ago. Many things are coming to light that I had completely forgotten.
It's probably just Alzheimer's.
Master of Cardboard
Last Thursday all of the things that I had stored in Phoenix arrived at my new home - in boxes - where they joined the stuff that I had with me on Okinawa - most of which is also still in boxes. That was Thursday. Friday I flew off to Portland and left the boxes and the stress of moving safely back in the desert. Yesterday I returned to Hellizona and those damned boxes were still here waiting on me!
Why couldn't a good Samaritan have broken in and unpacked?
I have set a goal of emptying at least two boxes a day and putting stuff away. Yesterday I did four, and today the total was five - with a sixth cut open and ready to empty. Three of the boxes that I emptied tonight were wardrobes that were stuffed with clothing that I hadn't seen in over two years - all carefully wadded by the packers and movers. Most of it was things that make no sense in the desert, like long-sleeve shirts and sweat shirts - and much of it was transferred to plastic tubs for delivery to our Airman's Attic, a local Salvation Army-type facility for our young airmen and their families. Of course they won't need long-sleeved shirts either, but maybe they can be modified or put to some use - like really nice paint and cleaning rags.
Cardboard is a recycle item, and in order for the trash man to pick it up, all of the boxes have to be cut and flattened - so that is my next big chore. Empty, cut, flatten, stuff in barrel, and repeat...and repeat...and repeat! Ugh!
The only bright spot in the whole process is opening the boxes that have been in storage for two years and becoming reacquainted with items that I should have tossed a long time ago. Many things are coming to light that I had completely forgotten.
It's probably just Alzheimer's.
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