Anatomy of a Move

I’ve found that moving to a new residence affords me an opportunity to try and better organize my belongings, and discard unnecessary detritus. But this move, as I carted three+ vanloads of crap to my new domicile, I’ve paused to take stock of my belongings, and see the story they tell about my life. Here are a few things I learned:

1. Washers hate me, and have been eating my socks at an alarming rate (a plethora lack companions).

2. I don’t polish my shoes as often as I’d like to think (judging by the used toothbrushes dwelling in my shoe care box).

3. I’ve donated a helluva lot of blood. Enough to fill two large drawers with blood donor t-shirts.

4. I’m a total cheapskate, but also really good at getting out stains–I have shirts that are 14 years old. That makes them older than some of my students!

In the course of moving I’ve also found out, by their absence, what items I would have difficulty living without. They include:

1. Nail clippers.

2. A nose-hair trimmer (thanks Dad, I’m just waiting for that golden day when one of them turns white, and conspires with my height to draw all attention to my nostrils).

3. Dress shoes. I may be a cheapskate, but I like looking like a professional.

4. Fresh underwear and socks. No double wearing, or going “commando” for me. I need some…”structure” to prevent painful chafing. I know…TMI.

5. My favorite recliner. It’s been with me my whole life, and I forever claimed it for my own by christening it at the tender age of three. Left alone in a dark family room, watching The Wizard of Oz, I was terrified by the flying monkeys. Being the prodigy I am (even then), I made the rational choice to surround myself with a pants’ load of comforting warmth–one that would also surround me in a defensive layer of stink. Oh you can try and abduct me, flying monkeys, but you’ll pay a terrible price!


2 Responses to “Anatomy of a Move”

  1. Stu Says:

    Dude, that recliner by now is genetically related to you. Eww.

  2. KP Says:

    Funny… the dryer hasn’t eaten any of my socks (that I know of). Maybe it just likes yours better. I have a t-shirt I regularly wear from 8th grade… which would make it 11 years old. And it is definitely older than my students (but then again, I teach preschoolers).

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