Okay I know that Frank and I pretend to be normal most days but things have now reached their illogical conclusion. We have spent what seems like months packing – okay Frank has – but we kept trying to pretend that we were just living in our house like normal. All that went out the window today. We are now T-3 days until closing and we can’t just box up the stuff we don’t feel like using over the next few days. It’s time to get serious.
And serious is where we are. The bathrooms have been packed and cleaned out. One bed is in parts and another is slated for disassembly tomorrow. The final files have been placed in a box and my desk is also ready to be taken apart. After spending all day in the most miserable heat on Saturday and Sunday wrapping and taping and running to the Uhaul store for more boxes so we could wrap and tape some more, we had a brief respite yesterday that came in the guise of a cookout with friends. It was a lovely break where we pretended everything was normal – even if we did spend way more time trying to explain Wegmans than could ever be considered normal for KC! Even on departure, we said “See you later” rather than “Goodbye” cuz it felt more normal and delayed the tears at least for a short time.
So now we are out of social engagements, out of time, and out of excuses. Today the kitchen had to be packed. Still trying to use up as much food as possible, we started with a homemade quiche Lorraine (cuz that’s normal!) and then as another impossibly hot day began in earnest, we did a trial run for the drive to NY and packed up the cars exactly as it will be when we pull out of the driveway for the last time: suitcases for vacation, air bed, kitchen necessities, dog crate and bedding, and an inordinate number of boxes of booze. Hmmm….
Then everything that was left in the house got packed. Well mostly. I can’t believe how much stuff was hidden in the kitchen cupboards! Frank had packed a great deal of it already but left out dishes and glasses and pans and appliances we are still using. All of it had to find it’s way into some kind of container. It’s time to stop pretending that we live here and that we’ll actually cook anything. (Foreshadowing: the grill isn’t packed yet. 🙂 )
Away went the bread machine, Kitchenaid mixer, toaster oven, frying pans, cookie sheets, bundt pans (really, who makes bundt cakes anymore!), knives, cutlery, plates, bowls, mugs, and anything that was hidden in a nook or cranny in the kitchen. When that got boring, we’d wander into the living room and take apart lamps and clocks. At one point Frank noted that by packing all the lamps, we would now have no light in the living room. I looked around at the bare walls, stacks of boxes, and huddles of misplaced furniture and pointed out that the room wasn’t usable anyway. After hours of packing, we were still reflexively trying to be normal and act like we would actually use that room again.
All our kitchen “necessities” less the plastic wine glasses already in use.
Six hours and close to a dozen boxes later, we called it a day and rescued the cargo from the steaming hot cars. Our dry run netted us the realization that you never have as many boxes as you need and there are always things that suddenly appear after the last box is closed. I have officially designated one of the rubbermaid tubs from the garage the “flotsam and jetsam” box for the plethora of misplaced items which will suddenly appear when the movers arrive. We are now squatters in what will be someone else’s house in 3 days with only the bare necessities for eating the inevitable take out. For one last night though we’ll pretend just a little and cook our KC strips on the grill. And eat them off of paper plates. That seems almost normal.
ff to the Plaza Art Fair where hundreds of artists stall and food stands take over the plaza. The sun was shining and the day was glorious. We had poutine – Kansas City style so there was BBQ involved – and wandered through the crowds, chatting with artists along the way.
The Cannon Chronicles 