|Mar. 29th, 2009 09:23 am Boxes - my nemesis|
"I just don't want it to be April and we are still dealing with boxes."1 comment - Leave a comment
"Give me some credit! Come April, there won't still be boxes!"
Here I stand staring April in the face and yet there are still boxes. My words to Joe, come flying back to me on little winged feet and make me feel defeated.
I am sick to death of boxes. In my own defense, when I spoke those words, I really meant them. I had fully intended to go through the rest of that stuff and sort out the keepers from the tossers (I know, the Brits use that word to mean something vulgar!). And, I did work hard on them in the beginning, but as time passed, I spent less and less time sorting through them.
So, one may ask, why do I drag my feet? Most of the boxes that are left, contain items that would not be considered necessities. They aren't items that will improve the quality of my life. But they are items that remind me of people and places in my life that have impacted me greatly -- the photographs of childhood friends and teen-age loves; old letters and notes; small gifts and trinkets from once close friends; books of poetry that inspired -- most of which only have value to me. To open a box is to endure a flood of feelings and emotions, sometimes too great to endure. Silly, sentimental thing that I am, I cannot let these things go.
So here I sit, time on my hands, my own words echoing in my mind, boxes beckoning me to come finish what I have started -- yet, I procrastinate still. Tomorrow is another day.
|Date:||April 16th, 2009 09:20 pm (UTC)|| |
Those boxes are full of precious memories; how could you part with them? I don't envy the task at all; I couldn't do it. I, you see, am a pack rat and cannot bear to part with treasures of the past --- it would bring much too much pain - - - -