Packing

Mom said, "You're not going to blog about this, are you?"

"What do you think?"

Don't worry, Mom. There's nothing bad to say—not about you anyway. Moving, packing, even when it's not your place is a total and complete nightmare. Mom was a long way towards packed when I arrived, but far from finished. I estimate that the job was 85% done, which was impressive.

What remains are all the annoying, oddly shaped hard to pack delicate items:

• The stereo receiver. (All other components were packed.)
• Most of the CDs (LPs were packed) .
• Loose papers—mostly in the kitchen and the office.
• The non-perishable food.
• All the paintings/pictures.
• The oddly shaped pieces of silver (salt cellars, ladles, nut dishes).
• Random glasses, plates and flatware (still not packed, since we're using them).

Movers are coming on Friday and we will have everything ready for them. It's only Wednesday and I'd say we're now 95% packed. But the last few things get harder and harder to deal with—it's the law of diminishing returns of packing. Or something.

I get little time to myself and almost no privacy because I'm sleeping on the foldout sofa in the living room. Yesterday, I took the last box of grandma's china and mailed it to myself. Mom insisted that I would have to pack this box myself, but an old friend of the family was helping Mom last week and she did it for me. She is my friend too! While I was on that errand, I put gas in the car (that is a surprise for Mom) and picked up liquor store boxes. We are in box heaven.

The good news is that I saw Amanda last night. As she was telling me about a recent email from a long ago boyfriend (a fellow I knew as well) and discussing her mixed feelings about him, I thought, "Whom do I have those feelings about from my past?" And, while it wasn't exactly the same, I thought of Tom (important grad school boyfriend). Then I realized that Tom lives right here in Seattle and not only had I forgotten to call him, but contacting him during this visit hadn't even crossed my mind.

I don't recall if I wrote about it, but I resolved not long after the last time I spoke to Tom to stop calling him. I was using him as a crutch and I decided it wasn't healthy. Talking to Tom always draws me back to that life and involves some regrets, what-ifs and unrealistic semi-fantasies. So I said, "no more."

I guess I meant it. Because even after I remembered Tom and realized that I could call him and that if he were in town, he'd probably want to see me, it was very easy to decide not to do it.

I've stolen time this morning to write. I took the car and drove to a high school with a running track near the house. I only ran about ten minutes—but I'll go again tomorrow and add another interval. Now, I'm at the donut shop (why not reward minimal physical exertion with a donut?) and almost done with a cup of (regular) coffee and I should get back to Mom and the boxes.

Hopefully, we'll get to 99% today and take a break for a non-packing activity this afternoon.

PS I also had a good time with Amanda remembering a long ago Halloween we spent together. In fact, the story is the basis of one of my favorite dating guidelines—one that I haven't yet written about directly. That will be my next project.

Grateful for: the end of packing.

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