Barbara J. Hamby

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Little Boxes, Big Boxes

A year ago in July, I moved into an apartment that suited me perfectly with its swimming pools, multiple activities, fireplace, two bedrooms, two baths and many other amenities. However, it was not so well appreciated by my then house mate who, a few weeks after move-in, loaded his worldly goods into a U-haul and trucked off to Texas.

Shortly after that, before I had finished unpacking and arranging my belongings, I acquired a new house mate and assimilated more furniture and accoutrements into these rooms. Somehow I never seemed to get around to locating boxes containing projects I was working on before I moved, such as partially sorted snapshots and old letters to be used in writing memoirs.

This week, while looking for the snapshots, I found the letters. I also found a plastic storage bin I was sure contained the photos, but I was wrong. Two sleeping bags were tucked inside that one. Tomorrow the treasure hunt will continue. I hope I don?’ have to resort to touring the attic. Surely I wouldn’t have stashed them there, I like to think.

This search will provide a perfect opportunity to weed out more stuff that I’m unlikely to ever use. Tonight I found a box of Christmas candles and several calendars that I bought for Christmas gifts last winter and forgot about. Fortunately, they are for 2007 and 2008, so they’re not a total loss. Tomorrow the hunt goes on.

The painters appear to have finished with our deck railings, so we’ve put the outdoor furniture and the plants back in place. We should have a month or more of fairly decent days to enjoy our outdoor room. I can’t believe they painted the old splintery rails without sanding or even hammering down the nails that have popped up. If I’d known, we’d have done it before the paint went on. The new paint is an earth (read dirt-colored) tone. As I mentioned before, giving up responsibility leads to loss of control. But, my gripes are minor compared to all the good reasons to be here.

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