Son of a nutcracker, it is going to take two months.
"It" being the gutting and filleting of our home. Well, the estimate is six weeks - if nothing goes wrong.
Yeah, how often does that happen?
So preparation for "The McGlinchey Diaspora of 2011" has begun in earnest. (By the way, as a shorthand means of referring collectively to The Casualty, The Gutting and Filleting of Our Home and The McGlinchey Diaspora of 2011, I have selected the moniker, "The Event." You know, like the NBC drama of the same name. A drama that was very short-lived, given that it was cancelled after one season. The idea of a very short-lived drama appeals; the name is good karma, I think, where that's concerned. And, also, it's not like NBC is still using it.) Mr. Moving Coordinator is coming out to "get a handle" on the extent of our belongings. Grab on to that handle, Mr. Moving Coordinator. It will keep you upright when you see "the extent of our belongings" and keel over from a shock-induced coronary.
Apparently, Mr. Moving Coordinator is familiar with the concept of women. After informing my spouse that the insurance company will pack all of our belongings for us, he did not bat an eye when Spouse told him that Crazy Wife (that would be me) appreciated the sentiment but nevertheless would insist on packing some of the stuff herself. Well, most of the stuff. Probably not all of it. But most of it.
"Is she planning on taking a lot of stuff to resale?"
Yuppers.
"Well, tell her that she is entitled to boxes for all of your stuff - whether it comes back to the house or not. So, basically, we'll provide boxes for her to put the resale stuff in."
Excellent. It was all going, anyway, and I was going to have to procure means of transporting it. So, see, The Event is creating efficiencies and economies of scale. SEE HOW I AM FINDING THE SILVER LINING? THE SILVER LINING IS ENORMOUS. IT JUST GOES ON AND ON AND ON.
I'm overselling? Okay, I'll shut up.
Mr. Moving Coordinator then inquired as to how many boxes Crazy Wife would require to start.
And Clueless Spouse promptly stepped in it:
"Oh, half a dozen will work."
And then stepped in it again:
"Yeah, if you bring those by on Tuesday, that will be fine."
Um, honey? This conversation took place on a Wednesday. Tuesday, is like, ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WEEKEND from Wednesday. And weekends are when the magic happens. Weekends are when they run "So You Think You Can Dance" and "America's Next Top Model" marathons on cable, and your wife tackles a done-in-a-day project while she watches pretty people being talented. This particular Saturday, I'm planning on cleaning out the craft closet, sorting everything into trash, recycling, donation and "keep" piles, boxing everything accordingly, and then putting the "keep" boxes back into the closet. One Diaspora item checked off of the list, many to go.
Except, to do that, I need boxes. More than SIX of them. Bless your sweet, little heart. You're just so pretty. Really, you are.
Clueless Spouse is working to correct his gaffes. Meanwhile, I have begun preparing the master list of Things We Cannot Live Without That Must Accompany Us To Temporary Housing. Already on the list:
Certain of the family pictures.
The giant chocolate brown and turquoise wooden "m" that sits, front and center, on our living room mantel. And the tiny turquoise "c" that sits next to it, forming a "mc." Wouldn't want to forget our last name while we are out.
The black-and-white polka-dot canvas with a giant "M" on it that also resides in our living room. Same rationale as above.
A couple of the throw pillows. Really, honey, just a couple of them. The truly important ones.
My ADPi teddy bear (the one sewn from ADPi-print fabric) and one of the sock monkeys from our bed. Probably the one in the UT sweatshirt. Because, yes, I am an adolescent girl trapped in a grown-up's body. Particularly when I am under stress.
The wine collection. All of it. Wouldn't want it to go bad in storage. Wait, the storage is climate-controlled? Well, there goes my cover. Wine glasses optional. Totally okay with plastic stadium cups, for the full "roughing it" effect. Gives me street cred.
The Kitchen Aid stand mixer, a couple of Bundt pans, cupcake pans and various icing tools. Enough said.
All of the Halloween decorations.
Most of the Thanksgiving decorations.
Possibly some of the Christmas decorations. (How warped am I that the Halloween decoration are in as a default, and the Christmas decorations are optional? I tell myself that I am less concerned about the Christmas decorations than the others, because I have faith that The Event will have been put on permanent hiatus by December. But, reality is, if we slide into December, I would be totally happy just leaving the Halloween decorations up. And, you know, wrapping the presents in orange and black paper and putting them under the little black Christmas tree with the jack o' lantern ornaments on it. Because, in the face of a casualty, YOU ARE GIVEN CARTE BLANCHE TO BE JUST A LITTLE BIT IRREVERENT.)
My laptop.
My cell phone.
That's it. Well, you know, I'll need clothes and toiletries. And, also, my husband, children and pets. Can't forget them. But if I can play Free Cell on my laptop and Sudoku on my phone, that will occupy the dead time between looking at my Halloween decorations and baking stuff. I can kill two months that way, easily.
I guess I should bring a book or two, for appearance's sake.
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