Our house is full of boxes. Some are full, some are not. I’m not sure of the ratio, right now, but I want to say 40/60 in favor of the empty. It’s not that we’re not packed… it’s just the boxes out number us.
What I would like to do it build a fort. We have so much raw material that I think we could build a pretty spacious place, with a couple of rooms. We even have those really large wardrobe boxes that could contain a whole ‘nother world of their own complete with lion or witch. But we’re so preoccupied with filling these boxes that the joy of having so many boxes is lost on us. That, and I’m not 12 any more.
My parents used to have a sectional with huge sections. We would tip them on their end and create mazes throughout the living room. We didn’t need Chuck E. Cheese and his mazes. They paled by far. Mostly because we had to share those. They were huge pieces of furniture… so big that I’m not quite sure how it was so easy to get rid of them. These couches were also so big that as a child we each could have our own section… or we could share them and never ever know it. And they made excellent caves. We never slept in them… I think that’s because we knew that our beds were upstairs. Even as kids we preferred beds to floors. Or the couch. We’d sleep on the couch, but never under it. There may have also been a fear that these huge pieces would fall on us, crushing us completely.
So packing is going well. It’s at least going. Heather has a plan in her head that I haven’t asked too many questions about. I like it when she drops hints and I try to figure out where she’s going next. But I don’t want to interfere and cause her stress by ruining the secret plan. I’m trying this new things where I try not to stress her out. It’s a big move and I know its preoccupied her her thoughts for a while now.
But she may come home to find the boxes completely organized… into a fort.