I used to hold on to things.  I kept my notebook from high school that Willow decorated for me.  I kept pictures and drawings that the Goose and the Beetle made.  I kept the stuffed animal that Mr. E left in my locker at school.  (I still wonder how he did that, since he had graduated the year before.  In today’s times, he’d probably be in jail for illegally entering the school building.  He’s practically a terrorist.)

Things used to be very important to me.  Then we moved.  And moved.  And moved.  And moved.  And moved.  And are moving.  Somehow, stuff just doesn’t matter quite as much any more.

For one thing, I realize that nobody cares.  Take the stuffed animal, for instance.  It’s an ugly white bear holding a heart.  Nobody wants it.  Nobody cares.  It makes me remember the past, but I don’t actually want it either.  So, why not take a picture of it and throw the bear away?

The things that used to be treasures just don’t matter as much anymore.  Now, I just view them as something that will take up space in the moving truck.  We’ve rented the biggest truck this time, because we’re actually making the move all at once, as opposed to our typical five-trip method.  See, in the past, we were either moving to a nearby location in Brandon, so we could make trips back and forth, or we were moving away from Brandon.  We went back to Brandon anyway, so we just took another load as we went home the next time.  This time, however, we’re leaving.  We’re driving away on Friday morning and not coming back.  Well, we’re not coming back for a week anyway.  Okay, more accurately, we aren’t returning for 5 days.  We’ll be back next Wednesday, but that doesn’t count.  We really want to get it all moved and be done with it. (Don’t try to understand the logic.)

I’ve had to put off packing until the last minute.  (I had to…That’s my excuse.  I’m really not a procrastinator.)  Every time I would start to pack, I found myself putting one thing in the box and 50 things in the “donate” pile.  I was afraid if I kept it up, we’d have no belongings by the time we loaded the moving truck.  I was merciless, because I had a limited number of boxes.

The problem with thinking you’re not moving again soon is that you get rid of all your boxes.  You’re so happy to finish unpacking that you burn the boxes or throw them in the dumpster, pledging to never use them again.  That’s what happened to us.  We were going to be here for 20 years, so we didn’t need boxes anymore.  Boy, that was a quick 20 years.  I hardly aged at all!

So, we found ourselves without boxes and with a lot of stuff.  The Goose has been walking around quoting the commercial, “Too much stuff, not enough space!” for weeks.  We had to get boxes to pack all this stuff we just finished unpacking, but we couldn’t buy any.  First, we were too cheap to pay perfectly good money for something we’re going to throw away and never use again.  Second, the only place that sold boxes was all the way in Gainesville and nobody wanted to drive to Gainesville again.  So, we checked Craigslist.  Low and behold, people were giving away boxes.  Who knew?  We went to Gainesville (I told you…don’t try to understand it) and picked some up and then got home and turned on the TV.  (Don’t judge us.  We were tired from getting the boxes.)  On the news was a story about the increase in Craigslist murders.  With that, we turned off the TV and started packing.

Today, when we discovered we still did not have enough boxes, Mr. Everything went on a search in High Springs.  He checked with all three of the stores.  (I’m sure he was exhausted by the end of his tour of this huge city.)  The dollar store told him they did not have boxes for him but their cardboard dumpster was out back.  That’s when the Mr. and the Beetle went dumpster diving.  Luckily, they brought back only boxes and not lunch. And I must say, the boxes do not smell very nice.  The Goose is refusing to pack anything in them because they smell like cleaning products.  I keep reminding her that they could smell worse.

So, now, here I sit.  Typing.  Are the boxes packed?  No, not really.  There are some packed, but every time I start, I sigh heavily and give up.  I really am ready to move.  I have properly mourned our dream job turned nightmare and now I’m ready to bury it and move on.  However, I just don’t think I have it in me to pack all this junk again.  I wonder if Mr. E would accept, “I just can’t  do it,” as a valid excuse for me to sit on the couch while does all the work tomorrow.  Probably not, which brings me back to my first instinct of just giving it all away.  I could just leave all our junk in the house here and consider it a charitable contribution to the camp.  Do you think the board of directors would be happy about that?  Probably not.  Some people just don’t appreciate anything. 

All I know is, I don’t want any of this junk, and I want to just throw it away.  My kids and my dog better not sit still too long or I’m likely to throw them away, too.  I guess, at least that way, there would be more space in the moving truck.  -Al



People make design by the dreams they thought that they may perform the work in few seconds. The things act as per their desire. Many people thought the performance is the key for quick action. Many people love to stay in their dreams.


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