There are consequences to moving. Most are expected, or if a surprise, a little thought can make them pretty logical. We're not even going to touch the financial consequences here. Or mail vanishing. Or pain, tiredness, frustration, etc., per se. This is the moving-of-possession's game of hide and seek.
Most memories are temporary, even short term. I recall the months of packing. I know for example, I packed a whole lot of books. Can I tell you now which ones? With very few exceptions, nope. So, when I finally get around to opening boxes of them, and more boxes, and more.... Anyway, I expect surprises. And some disappointments. Why did I pack these books and leave those others behind? Was that a day I was just clearing off shelves? Or a day I was regretting doing such a find job of clearing off shelves that I felt like adding more books in that I really truly do not NEED after all? So far, though, I'm pretty sure we're going to wind up with more books than shelves, so the next decisions there will be a choice between a stricter purge, or the sacrifice of clean, bare wall space. One thing we both love about this house is how open it is and how much wall space it has... in places. They did put some doors and windows in odd locations. Over half the exterior walls in any given room have picture windows, low to the floor. Where would more furniture even go?
If we really want to talk short term memories, just three days ago, leaving my son's for here, where did we pack ....? There is an extensive list. I finally found my cardiac pacemaker monitor, just before sitting down to write this. It's plugged in and apparently working. I usually can't tell because it does its flashing lights thing when it's communicating at night when reasonable people are sleeping. Lest you think I'm calling any night owls out there "unreasonable", I married a beloved night owl and have been turning into one myself, or at least lost the habit of sleeping through the night in one segment. I'm frequently in the living room during the very wee hours, getting a break from sleep in favor of reading, being online, or watching TV for long enough to get the signal from my body it's time to sleep again. It's possible I'm not in my room when the monitor does its flashy-light thing, and that's why it isn't waking me up like it used to. Or maybe I just got used to it. Who knows? Another possibility is the bed at my son's house is just so uncomfortable - for me - that I simply can't stay in it for long. We'll see if that changes with the new mattress... which happens to be made up now, sheets and spread and all. Progress, eh?
We still have not located wherever Steve put his bag of pills. He hasn't had them to take at night for two days now, and his pain levels have been increasing accordingly. This afternoon will be a full deep search including places we gave a first look to and dismissed as simply unlikely. Apparently "unlikely" is where they wound up in the chaos. I was just back over at that house and checked through all his spaces, then mine, and no pills. No blood sugar meter. Plenty of clothes from both of us still on hangers in that closet, and dirt of course, so a cleaning is due in an upcoming visit. But he really, really needs his bag of meds. Like yesterday.
It's not just losing things, however temporarily. Finding things becomes an interesting process. All too often my first reaction is "where the hell are we going to put this?" We have 483 more square feet in this house than the AZ one. It just isn't as useful, or not yet, anyway. This morning there was a box of linens. I knew there had to be my dish cloths and towels somewhere, and this was the box - Hallelujah! We have dirtied dishes in a couple short days here. Then a bit deeper were some rags, some tablecloths, then something hard. Digging it out carefully, I found a rare piece of pottery. It needed a full box of linens all around it because not only is it the only piece of Sandia Pueblo pottery I've ever seen, but it is a huge plate and has a crack in the back. I bought it despite the crack, and just make sure to give it extra TLC. But of course I'd forgotten where I'd packed it, so if I had just dumped the contents of that box on the floor to sort through thinking all was fabrics....
Shudder!
The funny thing is I'd been hunting for towels. In this case, bath towels. I have a bathroom rack needing to be reassembled which used to be full of towels, with a bit of extra room for a bottle of rubbing alcohol which hadn't gotten used during covid since I bought 6, and a box of tissues, of which I also bought six but that's another story. I have no idea which of the many packed boxes left hold those towels, since I recall I ran out of bubble wrap temporarily and decided to use towels as packing material. I wound up buying about 7 huge rolls of bubble wrap anyway, not to mention two huge bags of packing peanuts - the kind that decompose harmlessly, or so they claim. I'm already giving away large boxes of pieces of bubble wrap as they finish serving their purpose, and I claim if I manage to get rid of it all (to the kids in the family of course) it will mean we're never going to move again! Promise!!!
Hmmm, maybe I better ration it slightly so the newer grand-babies and great-grand-babies can grow up a bit and get to use some? Or would I forget where I stored it in the meantime?
Of course, I haven't come up with those towels yet, with only 60 boxes still to go through. (No I haven't actually counted! It would be too much like work and I have plenty, thanks.) I can hardly wait to find out what those towels have been protecting for the last 8 months! I know it wasn't the books. I'm still missing pottery pieces. And haven't even touched the glass. I'm talking about the hobby glass, not the fancy display cabinet stuff. I think all of that which I still own is on display now. Those boxes got their early attention because they were in the way of a couple things I had to search through looking for my pacemaker monitor. Anybody tries to tell you different, they're fibbing! I don't care that the monitor wasn't even there after all, they'd be fibbing!
Of course any of those delicate things could also be hiding inside clothes. I found 6 blouses I'd only dimly remembered in one box this morning. I remember buying them, but never wearing them because the size marked is not how American manufacturers size clothes. A couple more years, maybe.... But they are pretty, have very unique designs in the fabric, and I'm working my way towards fitting them. They are too unique to be out of fashion then, even if I actually cared.
But once Steve wakes up from his nap we are really really going to need to go through boxes and totes and bags and crates and find his pills!!! I can't get distracted like this morning when I located the knobs and stopped to put them on the cabinet doors before they figured out a way to get misplaced again. All are in place now. But I do have a question. Whoever pulled them off their doors and packed them, while I thank you for putting each screw back in it's knob's back, I have to wonder exactly why those screws were put in so tightly and deeply that I had to go hunt up a screwdriver (phillips) just to take them apart to be able to use them? You knew they were getting put in a ziploc bag to stay together, and that bag taped down so it wouldn't go astray, or at least not till it entered the house. A couple turns of each screw would have kept each two as a single unit inside that sealed, taped bag. So why did you have to make them so tight, like you were installing each screw in its knob for life?
Just wondering.
Oh, did you think I was going to ask why you even removed the knobs in the first place? No, I wouldn't do that. That's the part which makes perfect sense.
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