Monday, April 10, 2017

Wondrous Things Uncovered While Moving

Ah yes, moving again (I'll explain why we move so much in an upcoming blog post.) Moving ranks right up there with root canals and bankruptcy for most enjoyable life experiences. Seriously, have you ever heard anyone actually say (and not ironically) I love moving!

Despite the many aspects about moving pretty much guaranteed to ruin your week (aching back, gaps in internet service, fights your wife over the book collection you're not willing to shrink down), there is at least one that can actually be sort of fun: re-discovering all of the weird and crazy forgotten stuff that was buried at the bottom of your closets, the drawers you never open, underneath the bed and in the back of your garage.

Here are a few wondrous things I found while moving:

An essay from seventh grade
No, I'm not a hoarder. My problem is more like a mysterious strain of communicable laziness. Not sure who I caught it from. Who can say why I thought this C- paper was important to keep or how it has escaped detection/purging through at least five different moves over the years. I didn't put much into it then and I can't get through the first paragraph without at least three facepalms now. Seriously, does my writing still sound like that?

Enough dog hair to make a blanket
Hey daddy, my shedding isn't a problem. Aren't I cute when
I read a book?
Otis, my black-lab/wirehaired terrier rescue mutt, sheds like a sheep. We could seriously be missing out on a potential income source in outsourcing his wool to some weaving loom. His coat is thick and seems to shed/replenish at a supernatural rate. Most disturbing is all of the places it turns up like in the bathroom (a place he never goes since he fears baths like Hell itself), in my desk drawers, in the back of the freezer. What? The back of the freezer? Yep...somehow.

My lost cell phone!
I remember clearly the night of panic when this old flip phone disappeared. The tearing apart of everything (so I thought) in the desperate search to find it. The week of terror being cut off from the rest of the world. There are places in my house I probably searched a dozen times. The one place I guess I neglected was the one place it actually was.

That damn James Joyce novel I keep threatening to read
Why? Why do I keep hauling it around and saying I'm going to read it? I'm pretty sure I've taken on the first five pages at least a dozen times. You'd think I'd give up and just donate it to the library.

A dirty sock?
Hmm... Haven't worn that style in about a decade. Let's see...still fits! Guess I'll throw it back into the mix.

A heart-wrenching love letter 
Woe is me! And I always felt so torn up wondering why she never responded. Probably because it was here, underneath a stack of worthless scrap paper all this time. Let me just read a little...oh, God, I was actually planning on giving that to her?

A moldy...what is that anyway?
It must have been a lonely 2 am forgotten snack. Now it's a lump of greenish-blue something or other. Actually, the sciency side of me is strangely intrigued. I king of wish I had a microscope.

A stack of 50 cds
Cds were annoyingly scratchable but I kind of miss the
rainbows that reflect off them
An amazing collection of handpicked music. Sadly, I actually don't own a cd player anymore. So what's in it? Some mixed cds. The complete Beatles collection. Every Rolling Stones album ever made. The Who. Johnny Cash. Miles Davis. Nirvana. Wow! I used to have such great taste in music. When did I become so boring?

My first novel
Love it. Hate it. Ten years ago I had the epiphany I was going to be a novelist and I hammered this 150,000 word mess out in 2 months. Love it for inspiring me. Hate it because it is actually really terrible.

Usually I'd probably pick a near-drowning experience over a move, but it can actually be strangely interesting too. It's like opening a time capsule into your own life. The longer you have been at a place the more irritating the move yet the more intriguing the capsule. You go further and further into you past as you rifle through the detritus of your house. In the deepest corners you might find some laughs, some tears, something smelly. 

Ah crap, which box did I pack my clean clothes in again?

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  1. Hilarious. Love it.

    My problem with moving is that I get halfway through packing and painstakingly separating the rubbish from the things that add value to my life, and then I get sick of it. The rest of it goes into boxes without ever being thoroughly examined, to remain in said boxes for the next five years until I move again. Who knows what treasures are lurking at the bottom.

    1. Ah so true!I think that is how I ended up with essays from seventh grade! Thanks for reading and commenting