This is my last article. No, not for the Missourian; this is the last article being written in the apartment. Kathy and I bought a home and we are packing. The apartment looks like a warehouse with boxes stacked in the office, the closets, the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, the ... well, there are boxes all over the place. I am waiting for one of the stacks to slide a bit and then we will have a boxalanche.
I am now thoroughly convinced that people need to move or faux-move once every five years just to clean out the stuff that we collect. My library seems to have grown exponentially since I moved from Colorado five years ago. Like rabbits, books multiply. As do papers, magazines, research articles, files and other piles growing in corners, shelves and drawers. A lot of trees have sacrificed their lives, and though the new place is much bigger, I have become a champion of recycling.
The kitchen has been packed, so I have been living on PB&Js and Gatorade for a few days. A great weight loss program though every nutritionist on the planet would take me to task. But another 15 pounds and I can get into the pants I wore 10 years ago.
Taking a break during the process was a luxury and one that I took seriously. The television showed only golf. There were comprehensive searches for Ibuprofen and trying to remember what day it was.
The logistics of a move are more complicated than we admit. Finding and packing boxes, getting the truck from the rental company, finding people to “volunteer” to fill and then empty that same truck, feeding those people, unpacking the boxes while trying to remember what was in each, even though each one was marked. Arrange for electric, water and trash collection at the new home and remember to take your name off the electric, water and trash collection at the old. Did I mention buying a lawnmower, trimmer, shovels, rakes, water hose and ladders? I know I missed something. Oh yes, what to do with the empty boxes?
I have not read the paper or watched the evening news in the last 10 days. Even NPR had been turned off in the car during the 12-mile drive to and from the two homes. I do not know if we are at war with Iran, North Korea or Alabama. Did Obama or McCain select vice presidential partners?
I am not sure what our governor has done in the last fortnight or even if he is in the state. If Mr. Blunt is gone, what is Peter Kinder doing and what laws has he signed as the acting emperor of Missouri?
Is Columbia still the jewel of the middle of Middle America or has the city manager declared that the city secede from the Union?
I do know fuel prices are going up and the Olympics and the Show-Me Games have not started, remembering fondly that the state cannot spell its non-de-plume correctly on the new license plates.
At least we are only moving across town and not across the country. We have arranged to make the move in seven days and take another two to clean the old place. It is now day nine. I will relax once this is over and we are settled in the new home with my new office filled with the 27 boxes of books and a clean desk.
I gotta get. I hear something creaking in the background. I think a stack of boxes have become unstable with the heat and humidity. I need to turn on my bookalanche locating beacon, put on a hard hat and ready the search dogs. Hopefully I will survive and the next writing will be more insightful, political and written from “The Bunker.”
David Rosman is a business and political communications consultant, professional speaker and college instructor in Communications, Ethics, Business and Politics. He welcomes your comments at ProfDave1011@netscape.net.