Headline: A MOVING EXPERIENCE: THE BOXES ARE HERE, NOW WHAT'S IN THEM?
Reporter: By Greg Freeman

Publication: ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
Last Printed:  Thu., May 30, 2002
Section: METRO, Page: B1, Edition: FIVE STAR LIFT

If I look a little more disheveled lately than usual, let me explain why.
  
My wife and I can't find the iron. Or the ironing board. Or my cologne. Or our combs. Or countless other things that used to be available at our fingertips. We moved into our new place last week.
   And for now, we're living out of boxes. Although the furniture's all been delivered, we've got boxes everywhere. Big boxes, small boxes, medium-sized boxes. Right now, every room in our home, save the bathrooms, is filled with boxes.

We just knew we were doing the right thing when we were packing. Friends had told us about moving without marking the boxes and the nightmares that resulted.
   We were going to be different and not make those mistakes, we had decided. None of those problems for us. We were sure to mark each box with where it should go.
   Indeed, right now we know exactly where each box goes: bedroom, kitchen, master bedroom, etc.

Problem is, we didn't mark them specifically enough to know what's in each box.
  
Are socks and underwear in one box marked bedroom, or is that the box of sweaters? Are the books in the "books" box the ones that go in the living room or in the study? In which of the boxes marked bathroom will I find the deodorant?
  
I have a favorite pair of very comfortable house shoes that I like to wear. Can't find them anywhere. They weren't in the box marked shoes. My guess is they're in one of the bedroom boxes. But which one? Ah, that's the mystery.

We haven't found the silverware yet, and we haven't unpacked the plates. Pots and pans are in one of the boxes, and we hope they'll surface soon, along with all the condiments, which are in one of the "kitchen" boxes.
  
So in the meantime, McDonald's, Taco Bell and, yes, even White Castle have become good friends of ours. They're providing our dinner each evening as we gradually get through the maze of boxes in our home. The words, "Do fries go with that?" are becoming part of our home dining experience.
  
Of course, we got used to eating out or eating fast food during our last week in our old home. We had prepared for the move by buying paper plates and plastic silverware. But somehow, in all the excitement, we accidentally packed them.

In packing, we also made the mistake of marking several boxes "miscellaneous," for smaller items that weren't specifically designed to go in any one room. Never do that. We're now faced with trying to determine in which miscellaneous box we will find this or that. Is the hammer in this miscellaneous box, or am I more likely to find flowerpots? Is the floor cleaner in this box, or is this one filled with paper towels? Maybe the Shadow knows, but we sure don't.
  
We did dig out my electric shaver last week. Unfortunately, it was the broken electric shaver. We found the right one after several days of my sporting a stubbly beard. At least I was on vacation.
  
Right now, the phrase most uttered in our home is, "Honey, have you seen the . . ." That's almost always followed by the response, "I think it's in one of the boxes."

Our son will be home from school next week. He doesn't know it yet, but one of his first tasks will be to help us empty boxes. We have no shortage of them, including those in his new bedroom.
  
But while his return to the household will be helpful, he'll also be adding to the problem: He's bringing a U-Haul from school filled with his own boxes. Needless to say, he'll have to unpack those himself.

If I ever move again -- and God willing, I won't ever move again -- I'll know to mark specifically what's in each box, attaching a list to each box letting me know exactly what's in there.

Meanwhile, at this rate, I figure we'll be done unpacking some time around the Fourth of July.
2003.


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