At some point last week I surveyed the mess that still maintained a strangle hold on most every room and declared war on the remaining boxes. Now, if you know me you will be inclined to assume that I finally hit my personal limit for mess-tolerance, but I have to tell you that really was not the reason. In fact, while my basic distaste for clutter and messiness will always be with me, the short fuse that blows after three days of looking at it got replaced with a sturdier version somewhere in our travels. I don't know how. Or where. I think it may have been Seattle. Coffee and maple bars will do that to you.
The real impetus behind the Great Chic-Fil-A Box Assault of 2014 was this: I want to live in my house, not spend all my time unpacking only to finish just in time to start the process all over again. Being out on the road for only a year (as opposed to becoming full time full-timers) taught me how to see through something small but necessary to get to what is bigger and more important. We could not avoid chores like laundry and grocery shopping, but we did learn how to get them done fast and at an appropriate time so we could experience the great hikes and stunning vistas and technicolor sunsets. This was one of the "mind changes" that I vowed to cling to for dear life. Or maybe I should say, for a fuller life.
When one of my kids wants to make a birthday card for a friend I want her to be able to do so because the craft supplies were unpacked.
When the owl hoots from a few yards away in our back yard I want to KNOW where the Hoot Flute is so we can grab it and call back to him.
When God lights up the evening with a blaze of orange and magenta glory I want to be able to grab my camera quickly and grab a shot. Not trip over waffle fry boxes and break my favorite lens. Or arm.
To celebrate crossing the finish line we went out today in search of new towels (old ones were wedding gifts. TWENTY. YEARS. AGO). We carried eight boxes and bags of stuff to Goodwill and the old towels went to our veterinarian's office. Six others are stacked in the garage awaiting a school fundraiser yard sale next month. Now maybe I will have time to bake Valentine cookies and help the girls with their scrapbooks and even blog more often.