eRamblings

MOM boxes = morning of moving boxes

This is where my mother tells me every day, twice a day, to make sure I pack my morning of box so that I know where to find the coffee machine and all my other necessities.

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Izabel is scared. I can see it. She runs to me about every ten minutes and gives me kisses (where she reaches up and touches her nose to my mouth, smelling my breath) and then stands there not knowing what to do with herself. She eventually retreats back to her one spot on the bed.  But I can tell she doesn’t know what to do or where to go. Tuesday, on the other hand, is psychotically making circles round the apartment. She runs at top speed knocking stuff over and hitting the walls meowing as she goes. Not sure if it’s nerves or just thrilled to have some space to run.

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I am literally shoulder deep in boxes. In the past two days I have packed up my kitchen, living room, office and dining room. Just finished the bathroom, minus the shower curtain and towels. Tonight I will be breaking down the closet and drawers while washing the sheets. And tomorrow I have the morning to finish it all.

Holy crap I don’t know how I’ll be ready.

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I’ve reached the point where I am ready to just start throwing crap in boxes. There is all this random stuff left and I am not sure how to organize it. The annoyed what the hell do I do with non-organized stuff usually throws it out, but I think tossing it in a box and writing misc on it should be good enough for now.

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It’s the morning of and I was driving home this morning to make coffee and realized that though I remembered to not pack the coffee machine, I packed every single one of my coffee mugs. (refer back to beginning of this post - mom boxes). I pulled into the nearest gas station and grabbed some coffee and donuts. As I was pouring in cream and sugar I noticed they have flavors, so I treated myself to raspberry flavor shots in my coffee. I gotta say I may be investing in flavor bottles just to spice up my decaf coffee. I can’t seem to find the Ghiradelli chocolate coffee I love so much. I have settled on Dunkin Donuts, but it isn’t flavored with chocolate or anything. I didn’t like the idea of buying flavors to pour in my coffee simply because I am spending more money, but it is nice to have the taste.

So here I am sitting in front of my desk, crunching the box underneath me, drinking my coffee and eating my donuts. Outside of the music I am playing it is very peaceful. I am relishing this because I know in about four hours my dad will be coming over to oversee the process.  When he wants something done he is a commander. That’s why I like it. Things get done, but once he gets here there will be no silence until the move is over. Again, why I like it. But for just a little while I am going to breathe. Sitting here drinking my coffee - the donuts are gone.

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Song of the day - here. (#4)

I did what every mom has taught their daughters not to do - I took candy from a stranger. I didn’t mean to. Maybe I did. But she came in to my shop, past the no soliciting sign and asked if I would put this bag of goodies out for my emloyees to look at. I said sure because I knew there was candy in there. I knew there was chocolate in there. And I knew she wouldn’t go away until I took the bag. So I took it. I was, after all, helping her out. After she left I proceeded to pilfer the bag of all the really good candy - Ghiradelli, Godiva, Herseys, all yummy. And there was this cute little bottle of water for after chocolate. I then put the bag on the break table for my employees, all two of them, to look through. If she only knew no one is currently looking for an apartment. Too bad. I would think this would be a nice place to live, if their chocolate tells anything about it.

In the bag was a limited edition Ghiradelli Chocolate. What exactly is a limited edition chocolate? Did they really only make a few million of these oh so wonderful chocolates? Was I really that lucky? Or do they just print that on there so they end up tasting so much better than if it wasn’t limited edition?

Something to ponder while I savor the last bite . . .

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