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Apr. 21st, 2009 10:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lordshipmayhemCats hate changes to their environment. Strike that: They despise changes to their environment. So Sumomo right now is one highly stressed kitty.
I take in two boxes, I get one unloaded. I go down to the car and pick up two more boxes, I get one unloaded. I pick up two more boxes. And so on.
You'll notice the math isn't working here. I have so much crap in my apartment right now, sitting in boxes on the floor, on the coffee table, on the dining room table. My sister Kathy also has tons of stuff in storage.
But today I picked up my last box from Dad and Mom's. I can now examine everything and determine what I've got, and where I can put it all, and what I need to toss, and what I need to keep.
It was so very, very sad. I made one last look around the place. Nothing in drawers. Nothing in the fruit cellar. Nothing in closets, aside from the occasional coat hanger.
After I locked the door, I took they key off the key ring. I had a chance to chat possibly for the last time with Andy Parfitt, the ancient next-door neighbour (like Dad and Mom, he's owned his house since it was built back in 1956). Then Margaret showed up and I handed the key off to her. Now, none of the three offspring of Don and Thelma have a key to the family homestead.
The new owner takes over on the 25th.
It's done. It's over. I feel spent.
I take in two boxes, I get one unloaded. I go down to the car and pick up two more boxes, I get one unloaded. I pick up two more boxes. And so on.
You'll notice the math isn't working here. I have so much crap in my apartment right now, sitting in boxes on the floor, on the coffee table, on the dining room table. My sister Kathy also has tons of stuff in storage.
But today I picked up my last box from Dad and Mom's. I can now examine everything and determine what I've got, and where I can put it all, and what I need to toss, and what I need to keep.
It was so very, very sad. I made one last look around the place. Nothing in drawers. Nothing in the fruit cellar. Nothing in closets, aside from the occasional coat hanger.
After I locked the door, I took they key off the key ring. I had a chance to chat possibly for the last time with Andy Parfitt, the ancient next-door neighbour (like Dad and Mom, he's owned his house since it was built back in 1956). Then Margaret showed up and I handed the key off to her. Now, none of the three offspring of Don and Thelma have a key to the family homestead.
The new owner takes over on the 25th.
It's done. It's over. I feel spent.