When I was a teenager, my parents gave me a birthday card which had a drawing of a messy pink bedroom and the message "Living with you, we understand why hurricanes are named after girls." I would like to claim that this was an unprovoked act of parental humor, but no one who has seen my bedroom then or since would believe it. Tidiness is not among my natural gifts.
When I packed to leave England, I have 49 parcels; 47 were shipped and 2 were taken on the plane with me to Tulsa. Of those 47 shipped parcels, half a dozen found their way into my former bedroom, forcing me to negotiate a path to the closet so I could hang up my coat. "Ah... the good old days." I thought as I was forced to find floor space for my duffle since my guitar case was already on the bed.
I had arrived at my parents house with a list of things I wanted out of those 47 boxes and suitcases: kitchen scale, books, stationary, contact lenses, summer clothes and high heeled shoes, and, of course, the tidy set of nested Biscuit Cutters Nikki had given me. Unfortunately for Operation Biscuit Cutter, the list of the major contents of each box and suitcase got left in Tulsa. (But I knew right where it was! On the top shelf over the desk!)
I omit from this post the somewhat dull details of the search process. You will recognize the general outline: read the less than specific descriptions written on the outside of a box, ("Scale" meant bathroom scale (weight given in pounds, kilos or stones) and not kitchen scale (weight given in grams or ounces).), open the box, re-seal the box, move the box to get to another box and repeat.
In the end, I found the biscuit cutters. And my baking book. And my kitchen scale. And everything else on my list.
And I got almost all of my 47 parcels out of my parents' house and garage and into the storage unit appointed for them.
Mission completed! Let the biscuits (and scones) begin!
When I packed to leave England, I have 49 parcels; 47 were shipped and 2 were taken on the plane with me to Tulsa. Of those 47 shipped parcels, half a dozen found their way into my former bedroom, forcing me to negotiate a path to the closet so I could hang up my coat. "Ah... the good old days." I thought as I was forced to find floor space for my duffle since my guitar case was already on the bed.
I had arrived at my parents house with a list of things I wanted out of those 47 boxes and suitcases: kitchen scale, books, stationary, contact lenses, summer clothes and high heeled shoes, and, of course, the tidy set of nested Biscuit Cutters Nikki had given me. Unfortunately for Operation Biscuit Cutter, the list of the major contents of each box and suitcase got left in Tulsa. (But I knew right where it was! On the top shelf over the desk!)
In the end, I found the biscuit cutters. And my baking book. And my kitchen scale. And everything else on my list.
And I got almost all of my 47 parcels out of my parents' house and garage and into the storage unit appointed for them.
Mission completed! Let the biscuits (and scones) begin!
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