Creatures Under The Bed

I’m really looking forward to getting to Ohio, living back in the Midwest, where there are four real seasons and winter is not two of them. There are real autumn colors and summer days don’t get that hot. It sounds like a terrific place to live.

That said, I hate moving.

We do it just about every three years and you’d think we’d be used to it, but damn, there’s real work involved in getting ready for people to come into your house and poke through our things, wrapping everything in paper and packing it all in boxes. It doesn’t matter how often you go through your stuff and weed out what you don’t want; there’s always crap to get rid of.

The Boy cleared out his room almost two moths ago… today we dang near filled it back up with things pulled out from under the bed. Dust covered, cobweb-sticky things we evidently don’t need. We’d forgotten about most of it.

A Torso Track. What the hell? I remember ordering it, I even remember using it once or twice, but I had no idea I still owned it.

A Packard Bell computer. Stop laughing. It was a speed demon when we bought it, a 486SX with a processor that went at about 33 MgHz. It had, hmmm, 12 megs of RAM that we upgraded to a whopping 36. At some point we stuck in a 75 MgHz overdrive processor. I think that’s when it died. No one has used it in 7 or 8 years. Don’t ask me why we still have it.

A plastic box with old manuscripts. I’m afraid to peek inside; I know whatever they are, they were written about 12 years ago and are so bad I’ll want to burn them. Better to leave them alone and pretend there’s a Potential Pulitzer Prize inside. Like my very own Cracker Jack Box.

A pair of mens’ tighty whiteys. What the fu-? I don’t wear white mens’ undies. The Spouse Thingy doesn’t. I don’t think The Boy does. Who the hell put them under my bed?

Enough dust bunnies to knit another dog, if I were so inclined. No wonder I can’t stop sneezing.

From where I’m sitting now, I can see both closet doors. I know the shelves are loaded with the crap that wouldn’t fit under the bed. None of it has been touched since we moved in. At some point, probably tomorrow, I’m not going have to suck it up and open the doors and go through it.

Something could be alive in there by now.

If you don’t hear from me in a few days, it was nice knowing you.

I’m sure I’d make a tasty snack for whatever it is…

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