Sunday, October 08, 2006
No More Wire Hangers!
The last time I moved, it was three weeks after my dad died, a rainy day in late August. I was both out of my mind and totally in control, a weird state that shock sometimes affords one in times of crisis. Some of my friends volunteered to help -- being a minimalist in all things, I didn't have a ton to move, but everyone, even the one bowl, one robe types, when it comes down to it, has a lot to move. One of my more compassionate friends (Count Dracula, anyone?) said in his ever-loving way of my old abode, This place is a cesspool. You should burn everything and start over. Note to self -- avoid having crackpots help you move, even when they have a trailer.
Of course, we made it to the last trip, the one in which everything has to go. A few pieces of furniture and a lone box sat in the middle of the room and someone asked what it was. My death box, I said. I have all the stuff from dead people that I would hate to lose. My plan was in case of fire, I could grab it and go. It's the main thing I would miss if it were lost and truly irreplaceable. Everyone avoided the death box, opting for the furniture and bags and bags of hangers, most of them wire. For someone who had gottten rid of a lot of stuff, I had too many and made another mental note -- No more wire hangers! (via Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest) Wherever I live, I keep the death box close and the above angel lithograph sits on top of it, flanked by two miniature coffin-like boxes, one containing holy dirt, the other my dad's ashes from his plane crash site. We all laughed when we realized nobody was touching the death box! I picked it up and put it in Snowflake, strapped it in a seatbelt. The death box and I rode to what would be my new home. Some things, I was to realize, you would always have to carry by yourself.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"Jewels are wonderful things. They have a life of their own." Gaslight
Drinking movie suggestion: My Beautiful Laundrette
Benedictions and Maledictions