I can now say I’ve started packing. Hi! I’ve started packing!
Dude. Should you ever need to pack up a whole house in a couple of weeks, you should totally lure Chris to your house. She is brutal but effective. Had my children been home this weekend I feel certain that she may have talked me into giving them to Goodwill. She takes no prisoners, and she is vehemently opposed to packing anything extraneous.
Which—according to her—pretty much covers everything I own.
But it’s hard to argue with someone who volunteered to come help you wade through and box up all your crap, you know?
We started with my two (large) hall closets. I had gone through these closets and weeded out a fair number of things just a few months ago, so I felt confident that I was in good shape. Yes I did.
Chris opened the doors and had a coronary. “HOW MANY BEDS DO YOU HAVE IN THIS HOUSE?” she shrieked. “BECAUSE WITH THIS MANY SHEETS I EXPECT THE ANSWER TO BE SOMEWHERE AROUND TEN.”
This perplexed me, for I only have a normal number of sheets sets. That would be… two percale sets and two flannels sets per bed. And maybe a few extras. And once Chris got done laughing at me she began emptying those closets like a woman possessed. “YOU DO NOT NEED ALL OF THIS. START SORTING,” she ordered. She put piles of things all over my bedroom and commanded me to designate items for packing, Goodwill, and trash. I really thought she was being silly; I mean, I probably needed most of it.
But as she continued pulling stuff out of the closet I began to see the error of my ways. As my bed disappeared under piles I conceded that she might have a point. When odd items started surfacing Chris cackled with glee; her point was proven. Okay, fine. I maybe did not need all of those sheets. Or, um, those other things. I would say that perhaps an entire closet’s worth of items were cleared out and disposed of.
I was trying to sort through things carefully, you know, but man, Chris just threw things into trash bags like it was a race. I totally cannot find my three-handled moss-covered family credenza now. (To get revenge, I managed to knock her into a box and make her beg for mercy and promise to stop trashing my belongings.)
Once we finished with that, we decided that we needed to go drop some stuff off at the kids’ consignment store. Which is near the liquor store. Our trip to the liquor store involved a small misunderstanding wherein we both bought alcohol and brought home some boxes, but I think upset the clerk. Oh well.
Back home again, I made a lovely gluten-free, dairy-free, poisoning-Chris-free dinner, which we enjoyed with lemon drops from a bottle (in plastic glasses) (premixed! just $8!) (FANCY!), and then I cleaned up the kitchen while Chris called home. Afterwards, it was back to packing.
Here is my family room as it looked right after dinner. And here it is after Chris The Packing Machine was through with it. Chris says I didn’t need to label the boxes, because I should just remember that that all the kids’ books are in booze boxes. However, I could barely remember what I’d packed 2 minutes after I taped the box up, so I opted to label them anyway.
Perhaps this was because of our packing materials, though. I can’t be sure. I’m sorry, who are you again?
We have succesfully packed… ummm… about 1/20th of my house. But we’re a little tipsy and busy eating candy (apparently, once you discover you have celiac disease, you don’t leave the house without a purseful of candy), and just about out of boxes, so it may be all we can do tonight.
Tomorrow we shall get some more boxes and then Chris will make me throw out the rest of my stuff. It’s going to be awesome!