When Justin and I moved from Kentucky, I meticulously packed, labeled and numbered each and every box and catalogued them into a spreadsheet. I think when the last box was packed and sealed we were up to box 45 and it honestly felt more like box 450. There were a few boxes I didn't label, because I knew we were shipping them straight to Mississippi and they would be immediately opened.
Our second bedroom has acted as a make shift holding place for these boxes and I've taken a few hours each Sunday to devote to this room and these boxes. Last Sunday I was getting the last of my winter clothes hung up in the closet and little by little I was realizing hey... where are those black pants and those jeans and that black shirt. When the final hanger was put on the rack it hit me that I wasn't missing a couple of things... I was missing an entire BOX of things.
Except there were NO more boxes in the room and the box down stairs was cables for the TV and TiVo and I couldn't very well wear those. All I could think about was this silly dress that I wanted to wear to Vegas and since I created and completed the spread sheet of the boxes, I knew for a fact that it wasn't in the storage closet. I mean good grief, if it was who could justify mailing a key and begging someone to please go rooting through 45 boxes and a storage room full of furniture for one little dress?
With that irrational thought my blood pressure began to rise. I told Justin of my misfortune of missing a box and he snickers. I stew and my blood boils. My mind is racing and all I can think is Justin thinks I'm crazy, but he just does NOT get this. Finally, he chimes in and says, "Lesli, you shouldn't be this mad about it, because there is nothing we can do about this. It's not like we can go back and get the box."
To which I go OFF... "There is NO solution. I get it. Just be sorry for me for 5 minutes, because if this was your XBOX you'd be a little MAD!"
I believe the XBox comment struck a chord and he felt my pain for a second. Then just like the knight in shining armor that he is, he pulls the missing box out of thin air and saves my night, my week and my trip to Vegas! Can you even imagine how happy I was?
Please ignore how death-like I look in the above picture... this was hour 22 of our whirlwind trip from Kentucky to Texas over Christmas. BUT this black shirt...yes, it's a little boring and not in the least bit flattering, but the most comfortable black shirt in the history of black shirts... and it's NO.WHERE.TO.BE.FOUND. I can only hope it's made a lovely home for itself in the storage unit and I'll look forward to wearing it next year. arrrggggg!
