We are a well-oiled aliyah machine. Kicking ass and taking names. Just call us the Chuck Norris of moving abroad.
That is until the packing began. I have mentioned before my other half may have pack rat tendencies. I, on the other hand, can fill exactly one box of “things” that I have an emotional attachment to. If allowed, DH would fill an entire walk in closet, plus a office and a small hallway closet of items he deems important. Oh wait…he already has.
In marriage, one learns much about his or her partner’s eccentricities and in marriage one must love his or his partner in spite (or because of) those eccentricities. As a self-professed type A control freak married to a self-professed pack rat, I have learned the art and beauty of ignoring the clutter. If it is out of sight, I do my best ignore it-which is far from my desire to go in the closet armed with only industrial sized trash bags and enough Red Bull to get me through one glorious night of organizing. Oh yes, that closet would call me daddy after I was done with it.
I only learned this after our previous move from Washington D.C. Admittedly, in the process of packing, I threw out his prized hockey puck. In my defense, it looked like a regular ol’ hockey puck to me and he hasn’t played hockey since Vanilla Ice had a hit record.
So yes, I threw out his precious hockey puck. But lesson learned….my husband is a borderline hoarder and I am a heartless witch.
Back to this packing adventure. It may be better understood if I simulate an hour of packing in TheBride’s residence:
Me: Toss it, Keep it, Pack it up. Toss it, toss it, toss it, keep it, pack it up. Toss it, toss it, toss it, keep it, pack it up.
After an hour, I have successful packed up the entire living room and half the kitchen.
DH: Oooh…I forgot about this!! Then proceeds to plays with new found toy for 5 minutes. Throws away 3 old CD’s, keeps 15 old CD’s. Hon, do you think I need my boxing gloves in Israel? You know what, I’m taking them. Goes through my trashed items to make sure I haven’t thrown away anything of his. Throws out a basketball…neither of us play basketball.Takes back the basketball and packs it just in case.
After an hour, DH has managed to pack 15 CD’s we will never use, a basketball that hasn’t been touched in 3 years and of course his prized hockey puck which he made me retrieve from the dumpster after I tossed it during the last move.
I’ve had it. I’m about march into that spare room and tell him what’s what when he casually says from the other room: Hon, do you have to take all 10 pairs of black heels with you?
So yes, maybe we all have our eccentricities. I love shoes. He lets me love shoes so I will let him take his boxing gloves to Israel. And that damned hockey puck.