Boxes and Smartwater

Man, a week goes by FAST, even when I'm struggling to get in gear.

While we are preparing for the big move East, I've realized that I've been in a holding pattern with packing because it just seemed too EARLY to pack most things (won't we need to use that whisk in the next few weeks?) and it always seems like there is enough time later to take care of such items.

However, I have come to recognize that pretty much everything can be packed at this point and we'll get along just fine, especially considering that Eric is pretty much never home except to sleep (finishing a restaurant build under looming deadline), the kitchen is mid-renovation and may as well not even exist (guess that answers the whisk question), and I spend most of my day working on the computer, napping, sorting files, or trying to figure out what I can possibly eat without wanting to vomit. Keeping in mind that there is no kitchen, I'm kind of limited in that last task.

I've also developed this really odd addiction to Smartwater. Now, if you've known me in the past 4 years, you know that there has never been a shortage of Smartwater bottles in my office, car, hand, etc. BUT! it has taken a dangerous and expensive new turn. With the absence of the kitchen sink, I have been unable to refill my bottles with the filtered tap water (not to mention they don't FIT under the bathroom faucet). More importantly, though, is the fact that Smartwater is the only water that "tastes right" to me now.

(if this is your first time here, I'm 14 weeks pregnant...smells and tastes are a very strange and unpredictable thing and completely rule one's ability to nourish oneself.)

I know I sound super picky right now and I'm really not THAT girl, but I swear I have an aversion to drinking water (at the hotttest point in the summer, I might add) when it is not in that lovely, sealed, clean-tasting, sarcastic labeled bottle. And a girl has to stay hydrated, so here I am, thankful that Costco sells it in bulk and it is a little cheaper that way.

Seeing the writing on the wall, I've gone ahead and written to Smartwater suggesting that they sponsor my pregnancy (and Harvard education...get it? SMARTwater...) with free product. They could go further and, you know, hook me up with some other kind of sponsorship while they were at it...I know I'm not a celebrity or superathlete or anything, but I *AM* attempting to grow a human while doing an intensive and unaffordable year of grad school and I think a lot more people could identify with my adventure than your average commercial-grade beautiful spokesperson. Just a thought.

(sigh) back to the boxes and the packing. Eric asks me last night (at 11pm) if I know "how many boxes we have total". (pause) "What?" He asks again (why his danger sensors did not pick up the tone in my voice, I don't know), "you know, how many boxes of stuff have you figured out that we have to take?"

(cut to scene)

Me: I have no idea. Especially since I've barely packed anything because you want to go through it.

Him: Oh. Huh. Well, you know, I'd really like to take a digital photo of all the contents of each box before they get packed.

Me: What?

Him: A digital photo - just lay the stuff out before it goes in the box and snap a picture.

Me: No. Why on earth would we do that?

Him: Well, that's what I did the last time I packed.

Me: Nope. No you didn't.

Him: Yes I did. It keeps everything organized.

Me: False. Digital cameras didn't EXIST the last time you moved.

Him: (Pause) True. But it is still a good idea.

Me: No. No it is not. Besides, that's ridiculous - who does that? Why?

Him: So we know what is in each box.

Me: We will. They're labeled on the outside. "Books" "Design Books" "Textbooks" "Lena's non-pregnant summer clothes", etc.

Him: But how will we know what is IN them?

Me: Um...aside from the pretty obvious labels...open them up and look when we unpack?

Him: Well, maybe we could at least have an inventory list of each box. So we know where the little things are...

There was this sidebar conversation about labeling *clear* plastic ziplock bags that contain things like pens and pencils (label: Pens and Pencils) or binder clips (label: binder clips) that are then put into a box that is labeled "office supplies" with a corresponding picture and inventory list. I decide at this point that he is either drunk, already asleep, or messing with me, but I can't really tell which (or all) is the case.

(this is where I get tired of the lunacy)

Me: No. Stop making this more difficult. We don't have time for it. I'll leave your stuff alone and you can go through it all and pack it with your lists, but I'm not detailing which books are in what box and cataloging the color of sweaters and shirts that we pack. K? Let's go back to watching Studio 60.

(end scene)


I managed this conversation with relative calm, considering my hormonal and overtired self. Today, I feel a little more capable to pack up (my) things and move forward. It's as if I needed the debate to clarify the task at hand (and also recognize my absolute horror of Eric being left to his own devices if I don't get stuff packed up before he is free and home to "help").

Guess I must be better hydrated.