Packing

The young man who has not wept is a savage, and the old man who will not laugh is a fool.
-- George Santayana

Sunday, May 9, 1999
One year ago: A Prize

Yesterday was my two-year anniversary for this journal! So I'm doing a best-of thing in that entry, and covering the weekend here. But don't miss Friday's entry where I go to see The Mummy!

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I've said before that one of the things I like about Jack is how he cooks for me! Saturday morning he fixed a grand breakfast -- pancakes (to use up the box of mix), real maple syrup (also to be used up), and fried eggs and juice. He even asked me if I liked grapefruit juice (not a favorite) before mixing it up!

I brought clothes with me for the weekend, but I didn't bring extra pants. The ones I wore Friday still smelled like woodsmoke!

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I'll note this now: you may assume that all the work Jack and I did yesterday and today was interspersed with rest periods, where we sat on the deck or in the living room and sipped our beverages. We got a lot done, though, and put a big dent in all the stuff that needs to be done so Jack can move. I think I'm more concerned than he is about getting it all done in time! But I tried to let him set the pace, and not be bugging him to work, work, work. There's too much danger of hurting his back if he does too much.

Jack felt he had to get the lawn mowed, front and back, and he says he'll be mowing again before the end of the month. If it were me, I'd let this go! But he feels responsible for this. While he pushed the mower around, I got a start on the horrid shed. The roofing blew off of this shed a few months ago, and water has been coming through the sheathing boards with every rain storm since. I started pulling out the boxes that were ruined, setting aside the ones that were still usable for packing, and stacking the garage-sale candidate stuff under the carport. There were even boxes of old clothes that Jack's daughter had put out there, unbeknownst to him, that were soaked, mildewed, and too nasty even to donate.

After digging through the shed, we broke down the wet boxes and stacked them in the back of the truck (or is it an SUV? I'm never sure about that). We drove them down to the transfer station in Kirkland (dropping them off in the cardboard recycle was free!) then went to Costco. Amazingly, our only purchases there: a pair of jeans for Jack. and lunch.

On again, to a Public Storage place that sold moving supplies. I would have gone in with Jack, but suddenly, the seatbelt buckle wouldn't work for me. He was able to open it, with tugging and shaking, but I couldn't manage it. This was worrying! At a convenience store, Jack convinced me to have some old lottery tickets checked, that I'd found while cleaning my purse and looking for my Costco card. I had won twenty two dollars, a few months ago! It does pay to have them slip the tickets in the machine and read off the numbers.

When I got out of the car again, I grabbed the seatbelt end that had the buckle, turned it upside down (impossible when I was in the seat), and shook it. A nickle flew out! That was the cause of the difficulty I'd had with it -- I was very amused.

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Back at the house, we packed the science fiction paperbacks, then the mysteries and weird stuff books. We wrapped many of the older books in the small plastic bags intended for the protection of such collectible items. Dinner was grilled teriyaki chicken and root beer floats, then we packed old copies of WIRED magazine in banana boxes. Most of these were already in those magazine file boxes, so that made it easier. I'm not a huge fan of keeping magazines these days, but Jack wants to keep WIRED, Visual Basic Programmer's Journal, and a few other technical journals.

We had to stop for the day, when we'd packed all the boxes! Now Jack had a better handle on the number of boxes that he'd need.

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Sunday started off with breakfast at Buds, a slightly funky breakfast and lunch only place in downtown Redmond. I found the "order at the counter" system unusual, almost like a fast food place. The food was good! I had oatmeal (virtuous), a sausage patty (not) and toast.

After a trip through the car wash, we set off on a long quest to find a place that would sell us more boxes to pack books in. (No, I don't know why we didn't just drive back to the place in Totem Lake where Jack bought the first batch.) Jack was positive that there was a mini-storage place in one of the many office parks in the neighborhood, but where? We cast back and forth, and finally caught sight of a yellow Ryder truck way at the end of the road, which did lead to the storage place Jack was thinking of.

A stop at Target -- mostly to put off the time when we'd have to go back and start working, Jack admitted. Bubble wrap, a Star Wars t-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants-style shorts. Jack has been looking for this last item for a surprisingly long time! You'd think that shorts like that would be readily available, but they aren't, and not wishing for a team logo or other gauds makes finding them even tougher.

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Errands done, we started packing again. I packed most of the hardback books in the living room, and Jack removed the standards and brackets from his bedroom wall, where his paperbacks were before. He used the bubble wrap and tape to protect the shelves' melamine coating, and to bundle all the parts together. He'll easily be able to put these up again whereever he ends up, but it does leave a lot of holes to be patched. sanded, and filled again.

When we'd filled all the boxes again, we sat and rested on the deck. The afternoon was ending. The sun felt so good for basking in! I did cry a bit. There were so many "last times" for this place, this weekend! I told Jack that I was glad it had just been him and me, here. At one time there had been a possibility of going to his parents this weekend, and I'd be glad to see them, but the time together for us meant a lot to me.

Jack always speaks very gently to me when I"m crying. I think he doesn't quite know how to handle it, yet, especially since I'm not crying with anger, or in a fit of temper -- I'm sad! And it's not about something he can change or fix right now. So his voice gets soft, and he hugs me, and after a while I'm not crying anymore.

For dinner (or a very late lunch) we had grilled chicken-apple curry sausages. A very unusual taste! I liked them, and they'd be even better with chutney spread on the roll or bread. Root beer floats again for dessert. Then it was time for me to go. I hope I'll get a chance to see Jack next weekend, but I might not; he'll be busy with a garage sale, and I expect I'll be at the film festival most of the time.