Saving My Bedroom

With a few days left until the move, we were getting down to the wire.  A lot was left to do.  A few more boxes were acquired.  We were packing (or rather, Dad was packing), Lisa was trying to pack some and clean some, and I was throwing some bags and boxes together to move.  We would take a few loads over per day between the Suburban and the Maxima.  We'd unload, unpack, throw the empties back in the vehicles, repack them and do it all again the next day.

Dave's brother, Glen, managed to snag some Chiquita banana boxes from the grocery store he works at. We looked like we were moving liquor and produce.  When Dad made enough of a dent in the downstairs, he commented how my room was next.  Lisa began talking to me. 

"I'm sorry. I can't talk right now.  I have to go save my bedroom."

"What?"

"Dad's on his way upstairs.  I have to save my room.  You'll understand when you start unpacking."

I raced up the stairs as fast as my damaged legs and stenosed spine would let me (which isn't very fast at all).  I asked Dad what he was doing.  I directed him to boxes and began UNpacking the garbage bag he had begun packing.  I reorganized it.  I threw garbage in the garbage, keepers in the bag, stuff I needed to know where it was immediately in my purse.  I directed him to the bookshelf, the toiletries on the dresser, the computer desk - anything that really didn't matter if it was immaculately organized alphabetically according to my OCD standards and stuff I would not need right away.  He did a fine job :-)

On Tuesday, April 30th we had a rented truck and formally moved to the farm.  It took more than one trip.  It also took another week or so of back and forth trips to the house with the Suburban and the cars to load up and clean up.  But that's another blog, or set of blogs.

As Lisa began unpacking some boxes, she began to realize what I had meant.

"Your Dad doesn't really organize, does he?"

"Nope.  Not at all."

"Yeah.  There doesn't appear to be any system to how he packed anything."

"Yep.  If it's there and needs to move and he has a box, it goes in the box.  That's how it works.  Now you understand what I meant when I said I had to "save" my bedroom.  I wasn't kidding."  :-)