I started packing seriously two nights ago. Started stacking boxes and throwing things into piles. There are five basic piles. Things to pack, things to toss, things to gift, things to donate and things to consider. Luckily, I've been in a tossing mood. So the packing's turning out to be less than expected.
At first, Boo was extremely curious. And he liked the boxes.
He'd jump in a box and hide there until he heard a loud noise or felt unexpected movement. Ever wondered about the term "scaredy cat?" I live with the offical scaredy cat. Anyway, once there's noise or something else, Boo springs out of the box. Kind of like the scene in Fatal Attraction where Glenn Close bounces upright out of the bathtub even though you thought she was dead.
Anyway, Boo was jumping out of boxes two nights ago.
By last night, though, Boo was close on my heels. Clearly wary of the growing mess in the house and the highly unusual level of activity.
And now it's today. Less than twenty four hours from the actual move and Boo's freaked out. He's been crying and dragging around his favorite fleece. He's dragged it upstairs and back down now about four times by my count.
And so I'm writing.
But not to avoid packing. Believe me, I'd rather be packing than doing anything else in the world. Believe me.
But Boo calms down when I assume my usual position on the sofa: horizontal with head propper up by pillows and computer on lap. As soon as I'm on the sofa, Boo goes to his chair. And there we hang out. I type and Boo naps. It's our routine.
At some point, Boo stretches and comes over to the sofa to walk on me. He walks on me a few times...usually on my stomach. At some point he usually manages to get his little Boo butt right in my face and whack me with his tail. And then he lays down on top of me to snuggle for a while before snoozing again. He shifts around as many times as necessary to get his face right into the crook of my neck. Then he pushes his head into my face so I'm forced to give him bunches of kisses.
And that's why I'm writing.
It's for Boo. It's so Boo can relax and snooze and snuggle with me. And to give the poor overworked fleece a rest.
Boo wasn't present for the last move. Boo had already moved to Reston. Months before I packed up and left the last apartment. All Boo knows is that one day he lived in an apartment and the next day he lived in a house where there were all sorts of steps and closets and a front door leading to the mystery of the great outdoors. Boo took instantly to running up and down steps and checking out the birds and neighborhood cats. His transition was easy.
This time, though, Boo's participating in the move. He can't go to the new house until everything's moved in and I'm ready to go. So Boo's watching it all.
Luckily, I'm not moving that much in.
When I moved to Reston, I got rid of much more than I kept. I'm trying to do the same this time. Trying to move only that which I use and only the most sentimental things.
So I've said goodbye to clothes I haven't worn in years. And goodbye to a few pairs of running shoes. And goodbye to a bunch of mugs that reside in the back of the cabinet no matter where I live.
And I've said goodbye to my cassette collection. Hovering near 200, the collection brings back all the memories I've failed to effectively block from my mind. Man, I was pretty eclectic back in the day. I listened to Thomas Dolby, Marshall Crenshaw, Elvis Costello, Joe Jackson and Tom Waits. But I also owned Foreigner, Madonna, Simple Minds and Tom Petty. I don't recall how Michael Bolton got into the collecton, but sure enough, he's there too.
But it's time for someone else to enjoy the collection.
And it's time for Boo to get used to a new house.
I'm hoping it won't be too long before he's comfortable enough to resume life on his chair and naps on my chest.
But just in case it takes him a while to settle in, I'm getting in extra Boo-snuggling in between boxes.