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#@% Pins!

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#@% Pins!

December 10th, 2006  · stk

Our unpacking has become unhinged by lack of shelving pins. Read Scott's Dr.Suess-like poem & story about our latest debacle ...

Where for Art Thou, Pins?

We have looked high.
We have looked low.
We're left to wonder, "Where did those pins go?"

Did we pack them in a box?
Did we pack them in a bag?
Are they hidden, beneath that rag?

Are they upstairs?
Are they down?
"We looked EVERYWHERE," we say with a frown.

We won't let pins stop us!
We say, "Let's buy more!"
So off we go, to the store.
(Bloody 35 kilometers away.)

We buy new pins.
We think we're wise.
"Oh no!" - they're the wrong size!

Our quest for pins, continues still.
The unpacking is on hold.
Looking for pins is getting old.

- by Dad (who's had a tad too many Dr. Suess books on his reading list lately).



The Unpacking "Plateau"

When you move into a new home, one reaches a point that could be called "the unpacking plateau". There's a mad, furious rush to bring order to the chaos, but only to the point of 'having what you need to live'. The rest of the unpacking, can (and does) usually wait.

Scott furiously unpacked the entire garage (right before it snowed) and set things up so he could get access to tools. Rachel madly put together the guest-bedroom and polished off the boxes that were in there. I think that was our plateau point. We haven't moved much stuff since then.

There's not one picture hung on the wall. Half of the garage is filled with boxes of "stuff" that doesn't have a home. Even though the garage "shop" is largely in place, everything has remained in boxes, yet to be unpacked and moved to a more permanent 'home'. It's OKAY ... this stuff isn't critical for day-to-day living, so it remains.

We need a catalyst. Something to get us off our duffs and moving again. (Scott's parents, who are coming for Christmas, tried to motivate us.)

"We'll be up in two weeks," Scott's mom said, "We expect all the boxes to be unpacked."

Scott replied, "Hmmm. I was thinking more that we could use your help!"

The last bit of unpacking is always the hardest.


Those Infernal Pins

The plateau was kicked off by our inability to find the pins that hold up the shelves in the bookcases. Without pins ... no shelves. Without shelves ... there's no place to put the books. Result: heavy book boxes still sit in the middle of the floor.

Did Alex take them? Are they in the garage? Who knows!

We've unofficially stopped the unpacking process, tacitly agreeing that we'll resume, once they're found.

That was 3 weeks ago.

Ever since, we've been on the hunt for those doggone pins. We've dedicated over 10 man-hours to the search. Still no pins.

Scott swears he's seen them.

"I swear, I've seen them in their plastic baggie - SOMEWHERE!" he repeats, over and over. Sometimes, his swearing is of a different nature, hopefully out of earshot of the Oop.

"Well," yells Rachel, from another room, "I can't find them!"

The sad part is that Scott knows how to pack. He knows that you put the pins in a baggie and then tape the baggie to the bookshelf. When you move in and need the pins - blammo - there they are, taped right to the bookshelf.

Did he do that this time? No! Why? Who knows.

What you don't do is put them in a box somewhere, because then you never know WHICH ONE.


An Organizing Oop

Alex is a little 'organizer' with a memory like an elephant (or is that a mouse?) Whichever is the one that can't remember where they put things.

Yesterday was Saturday - referred to as "cartoon day", by the Oop - her favorite day of the week (unless she's going to Ashley's house for day-care, which she loves too). Anyway, yesterday was Saturday, Rachel was off working and Alex was watching cartoons in Mom and Dad's bed, upstairs. She always gets a bag of "Oh's" (dry Cheerios) and a sippy cup of milk, while she watches (a kind of McKimler fast-food breakfast). When cartoons were over and lunchtime came, the big question was, "Where's your sippy cup, Alex?"

"In my room," she says.

"Can you go get it please?"

She pops upstairs and brings down a sippy cup. Not the milk one, but the water one that she uses at night, if she wakes up thirsty.

"This is your water one. Where's your milk one that you had this morning?"

She has a blank look on her face.

"Is it still upstairs in the bedroom?"

"I don't know," she says.

"Lets go find it."

Scott and Alex go upstairs and hunt through the bed covers, under the bed, adjacent tables, her room ... anywhere she might have placed it.

She doesn't remember where she put it.

Finally, 20 minutes later, Scott finds it ... it's INSIDE one of the pillow cases.

It's easy to blame the Oop when something goes missing.

Like last night's fiasco - the TV remote. We were on a big hunt for THAT, after Alex had gone to bed. No luck.

At one point, Scott said, "Should we wake her and keep her awake, until she finds it?" (Of course, she'd just be blurry-eyed and have no idea why we dragged her out of bed.)

Like the pins, the remote remains AWOL. Rachel can't watch her taped copy of the latest E.R. television show, because to play the VCR, it has to be set to channel 3 and channel 3 has been programmed out of the channel advance because there's no station on channel 3, so one has to punch "03" into the remote, to get to it. (You can't access all of the features of the remote, from the front of the TV - how silly is that?)

We're betting that the Oop has stashed the TV remote somewhere. Maybe the Oop took the pins too?

Wherever they are, the office remains cluttered, until they're found.

Moving sucks!

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