House of Cardboard

Oy, this is starting to become frighteningly real.

We're covered in boxes, closets are emptying. We have 9 foot ceilings and we have been cunningly stuffing the closets up to the rafters for 13 years. I'm focusing mostly on the kids' room and am finding all kinds of treasure, as well as those mysterious pieces of plastic which are integral to some important toy, whose exact location is currently also a mystery. So, throw the plastic piece out? No. Because if I did that, the toy fairies would ensure that I would locate the toy 2 days later, and I would be faced with a perfectly good toy which is missing just 1 piece and therefore is also doomed to the landfill.

I just couldn't live with that. So I make these piles of miscellaneous odd and ends which are looking for their mates and raisons d'etre.

Roo is more philosphical. He just took out 2 drawers of toys from a dresser & turned them upside down into a huge box, sealed it, and called it packed.

But will he be the one having to sort through that crap later? Will he be the one dispatched to locate the HP Lego Hermione in the pile of plastic miscellanea?

Ah well. Overall, it's going as well as expected. We're all still mostly talking to each other. Roo and I have both bloodied our hands (not punching each other, she hastens to reassure). In our home, pretty much any project involves band-aids. We must be chronic clutzes.

In the morning we were listening to the first Amelia Peabody audiobook, read by the marvellous Barbara Rosenblatt. Now, I've switched to Marc Antonio Solis.

Kids were going a bit stir crazy so I made them run around the underground parkade when we were emptying out our storage locker. Roo's taken a load of crap to the offsite storage and I'm renewing vows to not buy anything ever again.

Oh except, I need to go to Ikea this week. And I need a new pair of jeans. And of course, that doesn't include yarn. Because yarn is so compact. And books. Because I need them for research.

OK, but I'm not buying anything else. Ever.