Still haven’t found the camera to take pictures, so we are back on the cellphone.
It turns out that most of the things that I own require several items to work properly, TVs need remotes, video game systems need controllers, and tables need legs. At some point during the unpacking of several boxes I became obsessed with the idea that there was one box, one magical container that had every single item that I needed to make everything work correctly again. I even started to wander around the apartment quoting Tolkien and demanding one box rule all the other boxes. I guess that being married means that your wife can and will randomly pick up on ones insanity and make it her own, which is pretty much what happened after a couple of days of me randomly opening boxes and finding nothing– then opening them again several hours later to be disappointed the contents hadn’t changed. Veronica even seemed to think that this was healthy as I was looking for the one box that would make the entire apartment come together instantly.
I think the one thing that really upset me the most about the entire unpacking experience, and considering it is less than half over I am sure other things will find a way of upsetting me just as much, is that there really was one box that did fix everything. While it might seem like a good step of logic to pack all of the important things that make other things work into one box so that you know where they are, it also means that when that one box is misplaced in a series of other identical boxes that nothing works until it is fished out. I would say that I am learning lessons about moving, but I am sure that most of these will be nullified in my mind in three years when we move again.