So… all that stuff I threw into the back of my Toyota minivan just before I left town Friday?
- 2 carry-on size suitcases
- 3 boxes of important stuff I couldn’t live without for two months
- 3 boxes of essential stuff required for our traditional family Christmas
- 1 box of emergency stuff for winter driving over the Siskiyou summit
- 2 boxes of random stuff that sprung out of hiding as I was doing the last minute sweep and cleanup of the house.
All that stuff. (Not counting my dog Molly, who’s staying with friends…)
I must have put it there to teach me a lesson, because it’s already rapping me on the noggin like a zen master – it will not be ignored.
Yesterday I pulled up to my son’s apartment in the slightly rough Mission District of San Francisco, where he lives in an old Victorian, on the 3rd floor. After he greeted me, he peered into the back of the car:
“Ma, what IS all this crap? I thought you got rid of most of your stuff!”
“It’s my stuff for the next couple of months.”
“Well, it can’t stay in the car. It’s a recipe for a break-in. We’ve got to take it upstairs.”
So up three flights we humped 2 carryon suitcases, 3 boxes of important stuff, 3 boxes of Christmas stuff, 1 box of emergency stuff, and 2 boxes of random stuff PLUS, for good measure, my traveling craptastic basket between the front seats and the faceplate off my car radio. This left only a couple of rags and a lot of pine needles on the floor.
Unfortunately, this is just the beginning. When I leave for a house-sitting gig in Oakland in a week, we’ll haul all the boxes back downstairs, and then I’ll have to hump them inside again for safe-keeping. When I return to the Portland area for my next house-sitting gig, the cycle will be repeated.
And so on. I wonder how many more schleps before I learn a lesson…