Trash, Sell, or Pack and Keeping Your Marriage Intact

Getting ready to relocate one’s life location, again, in your sixties, is not a fresh stack of pancakes. It is more like chewing on hockey pucks. This is mid December. In mid October, to beat the Christmas rush, we sent 46 various sized boxes ahead to be stored for our arrival in our new location.

Since that time, we first took a couple of weeks off from packing any more boxes. Then we did a couple of flea market sales sessions to get rid of a couple of truck loads of surplus possessions and raise a bit of shipping dough. We generally got through the Thanksgiving holiday period.

For the last ten days, or so, we’ve been collecting and packing up one to two boxes a day. We use copious quantities of bubble wrap to protect anything that is fragile. This tends to keep even largish boxes light in weight. The largest and heaviest box to date was one last night that weighed in at 65 pounds.

Early today, we went down to the Community Association pancake breakfast. I was reminded by seeing so many friends there that one more time, late in life, we were planning to soon re-establish ourselves again in a new community.

This morning we wrapped up Box Number Sixteen of Phase II. We have two shipping pallets out on our covered lanai, each stacked about five feet high with prepared boxes. Sometimes a finished and numbered box actually has several smaller boxes inside. Each has to be carefully sealed with clear packaging tape and wrapped with a network of strapping (fibrous appliance ) tape to be assured of a relatively safe trip. After the Post Office department personnel recover from the Christmas rush and work their way through the accumulated backlog, we will again begin making shipments of boxes.

Of course, each box has to be numbered, a list made of the contents, and it has to be weighed. The last is important as this is the best, read that as cheapest, method of sorting out the manner of shipment that will be used with each particular box.

A friend recently moved from here in Hawaii back to Missouri. He told me that his boxes arrived looking like a gorilla had been using them for batting practice. We’re doubling up on the amount of strapping tape used on each box.

My dear wife of forty years has achieved that grand state where she is severely afflicted with a major case of ants in the pants. The anticipation (pun intended) of actually making the move almost does not allow her to sit still long enough to watch a movie on TV. We’ve have been making regular, major steps in preparing for this move, getting the house ready for sale if it comes to that. No matter how well we are doing in that department it is not good enough for her.

Those of you accustomed to wedded bliss will know without being reminded that when one’s dear bride has this compulsion driving their behavior, that the ox goad can become commonly and frequently utilized. Therefore today, after I had been generously allowed to watch a college football game, it was time to go out to my shop for day two of wrath and destruction in those hallowed confines.

My goals were quite simple: empty only seven medium sized storage drawers of hobby and modeling supplies, equipment, and spare parts, and also complete the bagging of two more mini-cabinets of very small parts. All the while, it was decision time: trash it, sell it, or pack it for shipment. It is the decision making of this kind that creates stress. Too much stress can cause severe disturbances and even illness.

Today’s three hours was only devoted to trash it, or sell it, and initially prepare items for packing. Actual packing will be accomplished over the next few days of consolidation, second guessing my original decisions obviously made in haste, and with careful weighing. Still, I need a good lie down, something chocolate to eat or drink, and some quality recovery time.

The really hard part is that my dear helpmate is so eager to see the job done that she wants to “help”. At times, that is like her stepping in to tell the dentist how to do a root canal. Her interest is speed not pain. “What do you need this for? What do you do with this?” And of course, she is a child of her generation and has never been properly trained in the esoteric masculine world and vocabulary of tools, the gear necessary to accomplish certain projects, and most importantly the value of having certain essential materials, parts, and tools on hand at all times to make emergency repairs. All for the purpose of avoiding a twenty dollars worth of gasoline trip to the not so local hardware store for a ten cent part.

I counsel all of those who find themselves in similar circumstances to quiet patience. Keep your cool. Hold onto your temper. If you take the time to carefully and fully explain your decisions, she will soon realize that she is only slowing you up in your decision process, and the questions will, at least, slow down in their frequency. Taking this time to explain is much less expensive than paying for the time of a divorce lawyer.

(c) Copyright 2006: George Wallace recently published a book on religion which lashes out at nearly all of the comfortable ideas about God, the trappings of organized religion, and the priesthood. His pithy comments and suggestions for a return to a God-centered personal religion will interest everyone. This article may be freely reprinted so long as all copyright attributions, and the full content of this resource box are included. www.OhGodIsThatYou.com

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