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Situation normal...
Jun. 23rd, 2006 11:08 amIt occurs to me that putting things away in boxes is an exercise in defying the laws of physics.
For example, I've just filled 10 boxes with books and stuff from my office. I look around, and it seems as if I have packed nothing. And when I get to where I am going, it will take me half the time to unpack the books, and I'll undoubtedly find that they'll fill available shelf space about twice as quickly.
A reader recently reminded me of the old saw "Three moves equals one fire." Fortunately, I have no conflagrations to compare anything against, but this will be our 15th move - assuming, of course, that it "counts" as a move (and if it doesn't, quite, then combined with the jaunt bringing the stuff from the Pearland house last year, it should).
The fellow who owns a string of packaging/mailing places in Durango stopped by the store this morning, and I let Galina take the lead speaking with him. In the end, it turned out that when the landlord told us there was no room for us at the center, he neglected to mention that it was because he had concluded an agreement with UPS to put in a UPS Store.
Good luck to whomever, as UPS doesn't make things exactly easy for packaging and shipping outfits, even those that they own (case in point: the UPS Store in Durango is right next to an Office Depot, whose UPS advertising is big, bright, loud, and distinctive, and is doubtless quite effective in drawing away customers from the smaller storefront).
Returning to our mutton, here it is, midday Friday and I can only maneuver certain items down the stairs by myself and stage them next to the truck. I need to finish packing my office (I haven't even started on the wires, electronics, etc.). My list of things I'm taking is taking hits left and right. I want to go to sleep so badly, it's not funny (the wanting-to-sleep reaction is a desire to escape the reality that faces me, which is nice to understand on an intellectual basis, but plays merry havoc with my emotional state).
We bought Galina a return ticket from Houston a couple of nights ago, to Albuquerque, and neatly solved the problem of her getting back to Pagosa from Albuquerque: We're going to drive in separate vehicles down to the Sunport, where Galina will park at one of the several cheap long-term parking lots (I seem to recall a billboard for a place you can park your heap for less than $2 a day). When she returns, she just needs to claim the car and set off for home.
Home.
Now, that's an interesting word. In a few days, "home" will be a room in a hotel twelve time zones from here. When I get back, "home" will be in Webster, Texas (as in "the thriving metropolis of..."), but I'll likely be coming to Pagosa frequently to visit, 'n stuff.
My head hurts just thinking about it, so I guess I'll "turn to" and continue packing.
Cheers...
For example, I've just filled 10 boxes with books and stuff from my office. I look around, and it seems as if I have packed nothing. And when I get to where I am going, it will take me half the time to unpack the books, and I'll undoubtedly find that they'll fill available shelf space about twice as quickly.
A reader recently reminded me of the old saw "Three moves equals one fire." Fortunately, I have no conflagrations to compare anything against, but this will be our 15th move - assuming, of course, that it "counts" as a move (and if it doesn't, quite, then combined with the jaunt bringing the stuff from the Pearland house last year, it should).
The fellow who owns a string of packaging/mailing places in Durango stopped by the store this morning, and I let Galina take the lead speaking with him. In the end, it turned out that when the landlord told us there was no room for us at the center, he neglected to mention that it was because he had concluded an agreement with UPS to put in a UPS Store.
Good luck to whomever, as UPS doesn't make things exactly easy for packaging and shipping outfits, even those that they own (case in point: the UPS Store in Durango is right next to an Office Depot, whose UPS advertising is big, bright, loud, and distinctive, and is doubtless quite effective in drawing away customers from the smaller storefront).
Returning to our mutton, here it is, midday Friday and I can only maneuver certain items down the stairs by myself and stage them next to the truck. I need to finish packing my office (I haven't even started on the wires, electronics, etc.). My list of things I'm taking is taking hits left and right. I want to go to sleep so badly, it's not funny (the wanting-to-sleep reaction is a desire to escape the reality that faces me, which is nice to understand on an intellectual basis, but plays merry havoc with my emotional state).
We bought Galina a return ticket from Houston a couple of nights ago, to Albuquerque, and neatly solved the problem of her getting back to Pagosa from Albuquerque: We're going to drive in separate vehicles down to the Sunport, where Galina will park at one of the several cheap long-term parking lots (I seem to recall a billboard for a place you can park your heap for less than $2 a day). When she returns, she just needs to claim the car and set off for home.
Home.
Now, that's an interesting word. In a few days, "home" will be a room in a hotel twelve time zones from here. When I get back, "home" will be in Webster, Texas (as in "the thriving metropolis of..."), but I'll likely be coming to Pagosa frequently to visit, 'n stuff.
My head hurts just thinking about it, so I guess I'll "turn to" and continue packing.
Cheers...
