Today we started packing our things at the apartment.
It’s kind of weird.
As much as I like to dislike our apartment management’s approach to things, as much as I hate the Sunday pile of trash next to the dumpster that is over-full, as much as I hate hearing our neighbor upstairs dropping large objects at 3:00 AM, I think I’ll sort of miss the place.
I’ll also not miss a lot of other things, like trying to find a parking spot late one night because all of the paid cover parking is empty, but the uncovered parking is packed full.
I’ll not miss a gated community with gates that work most of the time, if you exclude the first month and a half that we rented here, the last week, and mornings between 6:30 and 8:30 and Evening between 4:30 and 6:40.
I’ll not miss hearing our neighbors next door playing their goofy rock albums with the baselines that are the same three notes over and over and over and over and over, well you get the point.
However, I will probably miss our neighbor Lynn, from across the breeze way knocking on the door asking questions about her computer – I’m glad she asked, it was one of our few conversations together.
I’ll miss Greg, our neighbor downstairs (below Lynn), and his dog Diamond – Greg would always try to get Diamond to do a trick to please Abigail.
I’ll miss watching the four latino kids throwing fake punches at each other in the commons like they were Mighty Morphine Powder Strangers.
I’ll miss the odd memories of our first neighbors downstairs just abandoning their stuff downstairs, presumably to flee the country after 9-11 (very suspicious behavior there well before 9-11).
However, the boxes are here now sitting in the living room, Barnes & Noble logos emblazoned on them.
And the tape and scissors are out along with our little notebook that contains the box number and the corresponding description of what’s in the box and the room it should go in it.
And Abby is already keen on the idea of climbing onto the boxes.
She like the concept of climbing now.
In fact I had to pull her down off of the second level of boxes three times this evening while packing so she didn’t pull a Fay Wray [reference to King Kong fall – in case you didn’t know what that was about].
Anyway, it is happening… and I’m glad that we’ve got some sense of direction, it makes life a little easier to operate in.
Resting in Him,
Randy Peterman