Brainscrubber

Stuff. Stuff in the closet. Stuff on the shelves. Stuff on the floor. Twenty-six years of accumulated stuff for Cristina. Sixteen years of stuff for me. Years and years of forgotten stuff hidden behind furniture unmoved since Ronald Reagan was President. Lotsa stuff.

I have to pay homage, first, to Cristina. Like the Energizer Bunny, she just keeps plugging away…packing box upon box upon box upon box of the stuff I might have mentioned briefly in a former paragraph. Last night, she was up until 2am packing encyclopedias, and other books, into boxes that I moved (along with the bookcases) this morning into the PODS container now sitting in our driveway. I could only last until 11pm before it all caught up with me. I had filled about 1/3 of the PODS with stuff that Cristina had packed throughout the day. I had to take a shower before I could even go to bed.

There’s a certain something to be said for the bare existence of ascetics, I think. Well, not really, but they don’t have to pack and move stuff when they move from one cave to another. That part actually is inviting. Of course, we’ve been throwing stuff away as we go. Both the trash can and the recycling can are filled completely with stuff. Normally, the only time these containers are so full is at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Not this time. Stuff.

What kind of stuff?

Lots of books. Both Cristina and I question the need for so many books from time to time. But, then someone will say that need a reference on this or that, or they heard of some author and would love to read one of their books, and either Cristina and I go to the bookcase and pull out a volume that meets their needs. No, it doesn’t happen that way all the time, but more often than not.

Paper. How many trees have resided in our home over these last few decades? I’ve thrown away bags upon bags of shredded documents, tossed dozens of magazines into recycling, and grunted in frustration when I’ve realized there was yet another box of bills, invoices, or notes that should’ve been thrown away years ago, left to go through.

CDs and vinyl albums. Both Cristina and I are old enough that vinyl comprises a major portion of our music collection. Yes, we’ve switched to CDs, but it’s not as if we’re going to toss my half-speed mastered copy of Blind Faith, complete with the British cover that once was banned in the U.S. Ain’t gonna happen.

DVDs and VHS tapes. Cristina and I, as well as the rest of the family, are all movie freaks. We have seen just about any movie made in the last fifty years that got major release, not to mention a good portion of indie movies and older films that precede the world of Technicolor. And, we own copies of a huge chunk of those movies. Cristina knows – she packed them. I know – I moved the boxes in which she packed them.

Stuff. I guess we all need some stuff. We have some stuff to spare for the homeless children in Bangladesh. Of course, Cristina would have to pack the stuff, and I would have to move the stuff in order for said kids to get it. I’m pretty sure they’ll be waiting for that stuff for a bit longer.

Copyright 2005 by Greg Hubbard.

It dawned on me this morning that there is no way to tell this story in a chronological manner. Too much has already taken place to allow a neat history from start to finish. So, in a much more realistic way, I’ll insert some history in as appropriate.

I have heard that one of the most stressful times in any marriage is when the couple moves…that if they can survive the crap inherent to the process of selling one playing, buying another, then moving, they probably are safe for the longterm. Today has been a good test of that theory.

Both of us feel a tremendous amount of stress with regard to getting things ready in the San Diego house for the painters and flooring people. Cristina has been working tail off trying to get stuff packed…not enough can be said to praise her in that regard. I’ve been trying to arrange things like contractors to replace closet doors that have disappeared over the years, get a temporary storage facility that we can use as a staging area, plus get my job done at work. The coordination of all these efforts is a lot of work.

With regard to packing, Cristina’s lived in this house for 26 years, and I have lived in it for 16 years. WE HAVE A LOT OF STUFF!!!!! Nice people with very good intentions have advised us that we simply have to get tough and start throwing stuff away. Uh huh. Yeah. Easier said than done. Easier said when it’s not your own stuff. Easier said when you don’t have to take the time from another necessary task to do it. We’ve actually done pretty good. Cristina’s good at pushing on this. Sometimes I need pushing when it comes to stuff like this. Not my favorite thing in the world to do. Besides, I can always find a use for that thing. Or, that one. Or, this one.

Of course, this whole episode couldn’t be occurring at a worse time for me, work-wise. I literally have seven high priority items on my task list that needed to be accomplished yesterday. Couple that with everything associated with the move, and I probably have been a little more cranky than normal. I know I was cranky this afternoon when Cristina called me to say that the painters were starting on the interior of the house tomorrow. Seems they finished the exterior a day early. Crap. I spent a good chunk of this morning finding a temporary storage box that could reside in our driveway while we used it as a staging area…and, I got it all set up for delivery tomorrow. That allowed us to bust hump tomorrow night and get a big chunk of stuff out of the house and into the PODS (http://www.pods.com/) box before the painters started the interior on their scheduled day of Thursday. So, when I was told they wanted to start tomorrow, I was not a happy camper, something that I have never been to good at hiding. Cristina (who wasn’t terribly happy, either) and the painter have worked it out so that they can do some of the prelim work (i.e., ceilings), but it sure does throw off our schedule and require some real effort on our part tonight. Oh, well.

Still, Cristina and I can snap at each other, take some time apart and breathe, then talk to each other rationally. I’m not sure how Dr. Phil would view us, but who really gives a damn. I have the greatest wife in the world, and I really, really love her…without apology for my mushiness. A few spits and spats are not much of a price to pay for that…at least not in my book.

Copyright 2005 by Greg Hubbard

During late Spring of 2004, it became apparent that Cristina needed to be able to be mobile so that she could look after her Mom and Step-Dad. Evie is 92-years-old, and Ed is 93-years-old, and, though they are way more active at that age than a lot of folks half their age, they’re slowing down, and age is catching up with them. Additionally, my own mother is 82, and we need to be able to get someone to her at a moment’s notice.

My Mom, Mary, since has moved in with my sister. However, even before then, there was family, and friends close enough to be family, within moments of her house. Though I certainly am concerned for her care, she’s well looked after. The closest family that Ed and Evie have (that would care for them, anyways) all lives nearly 1,000 miles from their home. They have marvelous friends, but sometimes you just need someone with familial relations to be there.

With that thought in mind, and the fact that I love that part of Oregon, I suggested to Cristina that we move up there. After a minute or so of dead silence on the phone, she asked, “Um…are you serious?”

First of all, I love Ed and Evie. I couldn’t ask for better in-laws, and they simply are just good people. Secondly, I grew up on the High Plains of Texas surrounded by flat, dusty prairie where the nearest mountain four hours away. So, the idea of living in the tree-covered mountains surrounding the Willamette Valley sounded pretty much like Heaven.

“Yeah, I’m serious. Why don’t we discuss it when you get home?”

A lot of skepticism edged her voice, but she agreed to discuss it when she came home from her mother’s house.

That’s the end of Part One. Look for Part Two later today or tomorrow.

Copyright 2005 by Greg Hubbard