Today, the movers came, saw and carried 90% of what was left in my house out the door, onto the truck and into the storage unit. Well, perhaps it was a little more complicated than that. First, the look on these movers' faces when they saw Drake's six page storage moving day plan was priceless. I can just hear these guys over their dinner tables tonight: "Honey, you aren't going to believe this guy we moved today."
There were two movers. One guy, Matthew, was 45ish with a son who is going to the UIL State Championships tomorrow to power lift, and a wife who made sure that all the son's grades were "A". As Matthew put it, he gets "B's", he don't play. He was so proud of his son and of his wife for demanding the best. Lord knows I would have kissed the feet of parents like them when I was teaching. The other guy, David, was 25ish and thought Drake was crazy. He didn't say anything; he just telegraphed his message with body language. I didn't catch him rolling his eyes, but it was only because I didn't look at him at that exact moment.
Now, I've gently poked fun at Drake's project manager approach to the storage unit, his graphed out storage unit from all dimensions, and oh, the newest wrinkle - the order of moving truck loading/unloading and the storage tub plan. I'm formally here to eat crow. It worked beautifully. We have a storage unit that has every drawer exposed, so it can be used. There's an aisle. There's a map that shows where every single item we own is stored. There's an inventory of the contents of every tub. It all worked like clockwork. We got the entire house moved and stored by 1:30 this afternoon. I was eating a Reuben sandwich by 2:00 pm. Drake's comment: "I'm very pleased with the outcome." Can you imagine? I would have been fist pumping, high fiving, button popping, woohooing. Drake was pleased with the outcome - doesn that just give you the picture of opposites attract?
The milestone of the storing of our things. I have to figure out how I feel about this. The house is sad - it's empty and echoing (literally). Fortunately, I'm emailing the wife of the new owners, and she's so excited. I believe that houses need to be loved. I think they hate sitting empty. Their job is to shelter people. It's their highest and best use. We have loved this house, and now it's time for new people to love this house.
It's time to move on. New adventures. Excitement is in the air. Next challenge: The Moving Sale.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Over the Top? You've Got to be Kidding.
This piece comes with a disclaimer prior to your reading of this selection: A direct quote from my husband:
With that said, now here's what the reality of that statement means........
An unwelcome friend has been visiting our house for the past several days. Actually since the Saturday when the 10" snow event was over, this friend showed up and has been camped out with us ever since. I haven't seen him for a while, but his return was not welcome. The old devil STRESS has joined us, and he has been whispering in Drake's ear, accelerating his heart rate, clenching his muscles, and ramping his obsessive/compulsive personality tendencies up to an intensity that's very, very hard to live with. We've been working continually since the movers of our storage stuff are coming on Friday the 5th. Drake's been totally immersed in the lists, the storage plan, the inventory, the checklist. He's obsessed with what we've forgotten. He's sure that we are going to have a zillion things undone when the movers come on Friday. Of course, when the control freak meets the uber project manager, this poor laborer has had to count to 100 several times this week.
Of course, I'm not affected by the stress of winnowing down, dividing up, and picking what to sell. Yes, I can hear you all laughing at that statement.
However, Drake is still in justification mode (ie - see the disclaimer above). I'm trying to get back into the enjoyment mode and be the very best laborer that Drake could ever wish for. Believe me, it's my only defense when he is as hyped up as this. This past week I had my successes, and I had my failures.
Here's my big failure. Once again, the dreaded "THIS IS MY STUFF" overwhelmed me. I've had to literally divide my clothes in half. I'm selling half of them. Now, I'm the first to admit that perhaps I have too many clothes. OK - I do have too many clothes. Even I realize that four closets of clothes is over the top. Even if you take away the memory clothes - which are pretty few - that I still have 3 and 3/4ths closets full of clothes.
Let me clarify for those of you who are scratching your heads, saying "Memory clothes, what the heck are memory clothes?" This is what I mean by memory clothes: They are the dresses I made for Easter for Sarah while she was growing up. It's the identical denim skirts that my best friend and I bought at Sakowitz just before we went to Puerto Vallarta. It's the dress I wore to my 10th wedding anniversary party. It's the first piece of lingerie I ever bought. You know, those kind of clothes. It doesn't matter if you never put them on again. They are so woven into your important memories that you can't bear to part with them. That's why women hold onto their wedding dresses - even after 40 years! Every woman I know has at least one item of memory clothing.
Usually my attitude toward clothing is just the opposite of holding on. I am married to someone who has very few clothes, but what he has, he wears and wears because he feels more comfortable in clothes that are familiar. I tend to be of the more must be better clothing school because I like having one of every color and mixing them up sometimes with some real bizarre results. Plus, I like finding clothes - at garage sales, at thrift shops, at resale shops and at the Goodwill. It's my second hobby after embroidery. That's how I wound up with four closets. The real problem was that I made the first few cuts over the past two years somewhat painlessly because, hey, I could always just buy more - and the quest was really more fun than the ownership. As St. Paul UMC garage sale devotees can attest, I have turned over entire station wagon loads of clothes - usually on a yearly basis. I was pretty sure that culling my clothes was not going to be that hard. (Boy, talk about lying to yourself.)
Now we are at the crossroads. I had to actually acknowledge the number of feet available to me for clothes. My portion of the Z rack in the storage unit will only hold 7.5 feet. The bar in the car will only hold 2 feet. I have 1 and 1/2 suitcases for taking anything I fold. Then I'm done. No more clothes than that. Can you imagine taking 2 feet of hanging clothes and 1-1/2 suitcases to last you for 6 months or possibly a year! (Now, Drake wants to jump in right here and say -"Well, you know you'll get 3/4th of the room for clothes, so you actually get 10 feet of Z rack for storage and 3 feet of clothes bar for clothes you're taking on the road.") OK - even so - that's not much. I took a deep breath on Wednesday, and I went into my closets. I thought I was ruthless. I gave up things I wanted to keep. I even gave up some MEMORY CLOTHES. I was sure that I had cut my wardrobe to the bone.
Wrong. After much waving around of arms, and accusations along the line of 'You know what we've talked about for a year'. Why are you surprised? I can't believe you're acting like you didn't know about this!' I then had to go back again and give away another third of my wardrobe. Painful. Very painful. For final insult, Drake then went through my clothes and picked out a few more items that he has always hated seeing me wear. To be fair.........I zealously pruned his wardrobe of everything that I hated seeing him in. It was a much higher pile of pruned items because Drake wears the same things endlessly. Clothes day was the low point of getting ready to go. I was miserable; Drake was frustrated by my attitude. Added as fuel to his hyper intensity of IF WE DON'T PUSH, WE WON'T BE READY, and my increasing physcial pain, it's a wonder we're still speaking. Lots of resentment on both sides - his justified and mine because even though I knew it was irrational, it made me feel better. The old devil living with us was in high cotton.
After backing off, sleeping on it, and realizing that the big picture of what we are trying to do is more important than a few clothes, I'm trying to get back into the enjoyment mode. There is something satisfying about releasing your stuff. I've sold beds, tables, bookcases, a dresser and a chest of drawers, two recliners, a TV and a stereo system without really turning a hair. I've got a garage packed to the rafters with stuff to price for the sale. I decided I'm not going to let a few clothes slow me down. I'm going. I want to go. I want a new life of new people, new places, new food, new sights. I want to have something to write about. To get that new life, this snake has to shed some skin. I've come to the conclusion that it's OK if some of it pulls a bit as it sheds away. it won't kill me, and from now on, it's not even going to faze me. Time to keep my eye on the big picture.
Oh, and today, even Drake admitted that perhaps he has been a bit intense. Just a bit. Now, we're laughing again. Now we're sure we will be ready to go - OK, I'm sure. I have faith in the best project manager in the world.
"Someone has to be over the top in order for us
to be ready to go."
With that said, now here's what the reality of that statement means........
An unwelcome friend has been visiting our house for the past several days. Actually since the Saturday when the 10" snow event was over, this friend showed up and has been camped out with us ever since. I haven't seen him for a while, but his return was not welcome. The old devil STRESS has joined us, and he has been whispering in Drake's ear, accelerating his heart rate, clenching his muscles, and ramping his obsessive/compulsive personality tendencies up to an intensity that's very, very hard to live with. We've been working continually since the movers of our storage stuff are coming on Friday the 5th. Drake's been totally immersed in the lists, the storage plan, the inventory, the checklist. He's obsessed with what we've forgotten. He's sure that we are going to have a zillion things undone when the movers come on Friday. Of course, when the control freak meets the uber project manager, this poor laborer has had to count to 100 several times this week.
Of course, I'm not affected by the stress of winnowing down, dividing up, and picking what to sell. Yes, I can hear you all laughing at that statement.
However, Drake is still in justification mode (ie - see the disclaimer above). I'm trying to get back into the enjoyment mode and be the very best laborer that Drake could ever wish for. Believe me, it's my only defense when he is as hyped up as this. This past week I had my successes, and I had my failures.
Here's my big failure. Once again, the dreaded "THIS IS MY STUFF" overwhelmed me. I've had to literally divide my clothes in half. I'm selling half of them. Now, I'm the first to admit that perhaps I have too many clothes. OK - I do have too many clothes. Even I realize that four closets of clothes is over the top. Even if you take away the memory clothes - which are pretty few - that I still have 3 and 3/4ths closets full of clothes.
Let me clarify for those of you who are scratching your heads, saying "Memory clothes, what the heck are memory clothes?" This is what I mean by memory clothes: They are the dresses I made for Easter for Sarah while she was growing up. It's the identical denim skirts that my best friend and I bought at Sakowitz just before we went to Puerto Vallarta. It's the dress I wore to my 10th wedding anniversary party. It's the first piece of lingerie I ever bought. You know, those kind of clothes. It doesn't matter if you never put them on again. They are so woven into your important memories that you can't bear to part with them. That's why women hold onto their wedding dresses - even after 40 years! Every woman I know has at least one item of memory clothing.
Usually my attitude toward clothing is just the opposite of holding on. I am married to someone who has very few clothes, but what he has, he wears and wears because he feels more comfortable in clothes that are familiar. I tend to be of the more must be better clothing school because I like having one of every color and mixing them up sometimes with some real bizarre results. Plus, I like finding clothes - at garage sales, at thrift shops, at resale shops and at the Goodwill. It's my second hobby after embroidery. That's how I wound up with four closets. The real problem was that I made the first few cuts over the past two years somewhat painlessly because, hey, I could always just buy more - and the quest was really more fun than the ownership. As St. Paul UMC garage sale devotees can attest, I have turned over entire station wagon loads of clothes - usually on a yearly basis. I was pretty sure that culling my clothes was not going to be that hard. (Boy, talk about lying to yourself.)
Now we are at the crossroads. I had to actually acknowledge the number of feet available to me for clothes. My portion of the Z rack in the storage unit will only hold 7.5 feet. The bar in the car will only hold 2 feet. I have 1 and 1/2 suitcases for taking anything I fold. Then I'm done. No more clothes than that. Can you imagine taking 2 feet of hanging clothes and 1-1/2 suitcases to last you for 6 months or possibly a year! (Now, Drake wants to jump in right here and say -"Well, you know you'll get 3/4th of the room for clothes, so you actually get 10 feet of Z rack for storage and 3 feet of clothes bar for clothes you're taking on the road.") OK - even so - that's not much. I took a deep breath on Wednesday, and I went into my closets. I thought I was ruthless. I gave up things I wanted to keep. I even gave up some MEMORY CLOTHES. I was sure that I had cut my wardrobe to the bone.
Wrong. After much waving around of arms, and accusations along the line of 'You know what we've talked about for a year'. Why are you surprised? I can't believe you're acting like you didn't know about this!' I then had to go back again and give away another third of my wardrobe. Painful. Very painful. For final insult, Drake then went through my clothes and picked out a few more items that he has always hated seeing me wear. To be fair.........I zealously pruned his wardrobe of everything that I hated seeing him in. It was a much higher pile of pruned items because Drake wears the same things endlessly. Clothes day was the low point of getting ready to go. I was miserable; Drake was frustrated by my attitude. Added as fuel to his hyper intensity of IF WE DON'T PUSH, WE WON'T BE READY, and my increasing physcial pain, it's a wonder we're still speaking. Lots of resentment on both sides - his justified and mine because even though I knew it was irrational, it made me feel better. The old devil living with us was in high cotton.
After backing off, sleeping on it, and realizing that the big picture of what we are trying to do is more important than a few clothes, I'm trying to get back into the enjoyment mode. There is something satisfying about releasing your stuff. I've sold beds, tables, bookcases, a dresser and a chest of drawers, two recliners, a TV and a stereo system without really turning a hair. I've got a garage packed to the rafters with stuff to price for the sale. I decided I'm not going to let a few clothes slow me down. I'm going. I want to go. I want a new life of new people, new places, new food, new sights. I want to have something to write about. To get that new life, this snake has to shed some skin. I've come to the conclusion that it's OK if some of it pulls a bit as it sheds away. it won't kill me, and from now on, it's not even going to faze me. Time to keep my eye on the big picture.
Oh, and today, even Drake admitted that perhaps he has been a bit intense. Just a bit. Now, we're laughing again. Now we're sure we will be ready to go - OK, I'm sure. I have faith in the best project manager in the world.
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