Outside the Box

I note with minor amusement that my last entry updated with the date of 25 Jun 05. Since I permitted the system to date the entry for me, I can only assume that I’ve somehow gotten ahead of myself. If the automatic date can be trusted, I’ve got four more months before I catch up with me. If there is significance in this, I have failed so far to find it.

I am moved. The boxes, so tediously packed, are now being tediously unpacked. Most of my belongings made the passage unscathed. So far the losses run to one Candlewick bowl (it was of a somewhat unusual shape, and I’m not sure it can be replaced), one water glass (of the set of water glasses that had me throwing temper tantrum shortly after my transplant surgery, when the meds still had me pretty messed up), and a green hand blown glass that I suspect is an antique Anchor Hocking from the forest green color, but which I have never been able to identify definitively. The green glass is the sorest loss. It, like the Candlewick, was my mother’s and I have early childhood memories of those glasses being brought out for Christmas, Easter, and other fancy dinners. There used to be twelve each of large water glasses, smaller water glasses, and very small juice glasses. This wasn’t the first loss from this set; over the years perhaps a quarter of the glasses have been damaged. Attrition and time go hand-in-hand, but I tire of resigning myself to this factoid of life.

Having the Younger Sister as landlord will be interesting. Already she’s taken a few bothersome short-cuts. She had mirrors, pictures, and various knicky-knacky things nailed to the walls all over the condo. She decided to do us a “favor” and leave all the nails in the walls so that we could use them to hang up our own stuff. I haven’t nearly the quantity of wall hangings she did, and I tend to use hanger hooks instead of raw nails to hang things anyhow. There are literally dozens of holes that will require spackling and painting. When I asked her if she had any wall paint left so that I could do a proper job of wall repair, I discovered that she didn’t. She seems a bit peeved that I wasn’t just going to hang things over the hooks to hide the holes.

We’ve also still got a garage full of her stuff, mostly empty boxes, gardening supplies, and a ten-speed bike with flat tires and about fifty miles on the virtual odometer. I’ve been instructed that everything remaining in the garage of hers can be trashed; once that’s been accomplished The Socialist will finally realize his dream of having an indoor parking space for his beloved Matrix.

I’ve been on a recent business trip to Kansas City. Indeed, I’ve only been back a few days from that. A woman I greatly admire was a guest speaker there, and I was able to get her newly published book signed, as well as speak with her about a project we’re doing at work. My company had wanted to have her sign off on our plans that she approved our proposal; I had my doubts that she’d be willing to do this as a freebie, since her livelihood depends on doing consulting work. To my surprise she was quite happy to review the plans with me and sign off on them though. Some people are truly class acts.

I’m glad to be home from the trip though. I have email to catch up on, more boxes to unpack, and a good night’s sleep to get. I believe I’ll start with the last first.