We don’t usually fit into little boxes, partially because I am just too big to fit in a little box but mostly because we don’t believe that we’re all just the same.
But today, in the home of the Wondering Wanderers we’re all about the boxes. My job list is being kicked into submission, I am on track, hittin’ targets, shootin’ ball, kickin’ ass and all that sort of thing and doing everything I am supposed to be doing according to the post below. I have this piece of paper that I am living by and ticking things off of. I have resisted the urge to colour code it but only because I have already packed the felt tips and the only pen left is a black one.
So today we have moved everything other than beds, one solitary stacking crate which fits in the wardrobe in the van and is full of clothes and one small box of stuff that will come in the van with us out of Dragon and Star’s bedrooms. This took the sorts of skills that would get me a job in hostage situation negotiation division of the American cops in films for Star. She loves her soft toys, like really, really loves them. She managed to reduce the pile that live on her bed by about 3 /4 a while ago and we had a goodbye party for them before they went into the loft and they still write and everything. Today the remainder needed to go into a box. She started with a huge pile that simply could not come with us in the van unless at least four of them had driving licences and were prepared to take their turn at the driving. Much talking her down was required on rationales as diverse as ‘these are wild animals from Africa, let us put them away until we return for we will see only native British wild animals on this trip’ to ‘these teddies are all hues of purple, how about they keep each other company and stay in this box?’. Of course Star is many years wiser for her age than I am and by the end I fear she was patronising me far more than the other way round but we did at least reduce the pile to one which will merely make her bunk uncomfortable for her instead of preventing any of the rest of us from getting in the van due to the volume of them.
Dragon meanwhile was being very helpful packing up his boxes. So helpful infact that he packed them to the point that each box weighed more than he does. Which would be fine if I didn’t need to get them down the stairs, along a narrow hall, down the steep front door steps, past Willow and into my car, then along a drive, up more front door steps and through the house at the other end. I did some reshuffling but still four of the boxes gave up on me at various points with the handles breaking and the box spewing it’s contents across the garden path or down the stairs. The box which won the title of Most Annoying Box That Nic Hates Most was one containing a Darth Vadar mask which not only broke and bumped down the stairs but then managed to mock my asthmastic breathing as I carried it.
Still, boxes moved, various other things ticked off the list and a very lovely bouquet of flowers (containing a spring of Willow ;)) and card from my Book Group tonight have me feeling everything will be okay. Ady confessed he is feeling wobbly tonight and I asked if in all of the nearly 18 years I’ve been saying airily ‘it’ll all be okay’ about everything from debts to parenthood to pork chops two days past their best before date I’ve ever been wrong. He agreed I have not yet, so at risk of inviting retrospective food poisoning I will continue to maintain that it’ll be okay.