Happy Boxing Day! When I first heard of this day, I thought it was a day where all the British servant class would get the Peers in a ring and give them what-for. Serving class revenge! I was rather disappointed to find that it had more to do with giving the servants the day off, since they had to work on the holiday. I like my idea better.
Boxes. I've moved around quite a bit in my life. I think, at one point, my mother said that she had to start a new address book just for me, as she already had sixteen different addresses under my name. I mostly moved myself - being the starving artist that I was for several years, I didn't have a lot of possessions. Everything was boxed up in boxes gleaned from the back of stores and groceries. I would pack things willy-nilly and label boxes in a cryptic way: "Stuff - Old LR". I inevitably lost a box during transition. I came to think of it as one does about socks in the laundry - a veritable Box Black Hole. When I moved to the Netherlands, one of my boxes never made it back into the shipping crate at Customs. Unfortunately, it contained all my dinner-sized plates. The first Dutch word I learned was inappropriate for family viewing.
When I was a kid, I had a cigar box in which I kept all my "important" stuff. There were rocks, little Robin's eggs, some sea glass, a snake skin. I was constantly spotting something amazing and pocketing it until I could safely stash it in my box. Which was then hidden through an elaborate series of coverings, veilings, and subterfuge. Heaven forbid someone would find my treasure! I still pick up odds and ends. Sort of like a magpie - shiny objects are always catching my eye.
One of my (countless) New Year's Resolutions is to sort through some of these boxes that have been toted around from pillar to post. They are still unpacked and still unused. So, I am assuming, they are unneeded. I have found that the best motivation for giving all these "collections" the heave-ho is imagining the conversation that will take place between my unfortunate family members burdened with the task of cleaning out my house after I'm gone.
"Um, didn't we just open a box of string bits and hour ago?"
"I'm afraid to open this box - YOU open it."
"Did you realize she had a 'problem'?"
Pardon me while I pull out my sorting bins (thank you Sylvie) and toss some flotsam!