All I can say is thank God I broke a nail. I’m hoping that the whole thing pops off within the week, acrylic and all, it’s for the best. You see, along with moving (hate it) and painting (hate it more) there’s packing (worse than death) that will take my entire adult life to complete.
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Dealing with packing reminds of how my old friend Chrissy Pupster managed housework. She would start in one room and end up in another, without actually getting down to the cleaning. First came the tidying and putting away.
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Then came the dusting which only lead to straightening everything all over again. She’d find herself in the hall closet for hours with a wet rag in one hand and the phone receiver in the other. And when that thing rang…well you might as well start from the beginning. And she’s not even married to pack rat Eddie.
So first I started cleaning out our closets, deciding what goes to the dump and what we’d try and get rid of at a garage sale. I ended up in the garage precariously stacking larger shaped boxes onto smaller ones. I pulled out a few shoeboxes to see what we had been saving in our garage, untouched, for ten years. The first held our non-personalized, generic, bride and groom toasting glasses. I know I’m callous because these went into the garage sale pile.
The next shoebox was worst than the first. Remember Stacey Powell’s junk drawer column? Here was a junk drawer of Eddies that he had carefully saved…FOR TEN YEARS! What’s that all about? Full of wifely concern I asked my dear husband if I could toss the remains to make room for his three new junk drawers from this house. He mutely nodded. Damn straight.
Eddie got back at me by re-stacking the boxes I had left in the center of the garage. Then he proceeded to re-pack some of them so they could hold more…junk. I remembered that Ed used to help his dad when he drove a big rig for Bekins. He also had helped organize the Aliotto’s move up north just last year. And it wasn’t long enough ago for me that we had moved from our house in Saugus to forget the way Eddie moves. Slow and steady.
If I did it my way everything would be rolled up in my sheets and tossed into the back of a dusty pickup truck ten or twelve times. Not Eddie. He can fit an entire dining set and kitchen into the space above the cab in a big U-Haul. Every square inch is meticulously planned out in advance. Much like the storyboards Alfred Hitchcock made and the notes Woody Allen kept before starting their films. Annoying but ever so perfect.
I met a guy today in the park who was some kind of spiritual healer. He held my band-aided little finger between his warm hands for ten minutes.
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I silently prayed against his healing powers so I could get out of packing, moving, painting and while I was at it cooking, cleaning and tidying. I didn’t have the heart to tell him…or Eddie.
Darn I just snapped it a little more reaching for the !
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on my keyboard!
