Boxed In

I'm having a box crisis. First, there are too many of them to get around; second, I don't have enough of them for the remaining stuff. There's a bunch from the wine store, but they're not big enough to really hold anything. I can't keep anything organized. Once I've laid it down, it's lost.

Today is my mother's birthday. I forgot to send her a card. Instead I sent her a bouquet of flowers. But I called the florist prior to unearthing my wallet. Not smart. The florist man just wanted to hang on and chat with me while I looked for it. We talked about the weather and the humidity, and his trip to Myrtle Beach and my brother-in-law leaving for MB yesterday, and his daughter in Newport and where I am moving; still can't find the freaking wallet. I realize that he's making me too nervous to concentrate on where it could possibly be residing. Finally, I say, What's your name? He says Bill. I say Bill, I gotta call you back after I find my wallet.

I've been praying for people to call me all day just to interrupt this hideous activity. The original premise of this blog was to have others decide what I should and should not keep. Did you notice how quickly that went by the wayside? Again, the packrat mentality. I'll probably store it all in my perfectly clean garage. I'm filled with self-loathing.

If one wanted to create the "perfect storm" for obtaining a mortgage, this time in history would be the perfect storm. The banks have been bailed out by the government and the banks don't want to lend money. It doesn't matter how many hundreds of thousands you are putting down on property or how many hundreds of thousands it's worth, they are requiring paperwork going back to the turn of the millennium and it's still not enough. By the time our mortgages are approved I am sure they will have asked us for DNA samples.