The Boxes

Today the moving truck arrived with my boxes. After a disappointing start -they failed to show up on the agreed day, supposedly the driver "forgot"- they delivered my earthly possessions right on schedule. Or a day early, if you consider that they said the trip would take a week and they picked them up a day later than originally planned. Tapings intact, all boxes accounted for, only superficial nicks on them. I have only opened three of them so far, the ones containing such important objects as seeds and meds, but I was surprised to find that their sheer presence makes me feel so much more at home. I plan to unpack them only partly at this point, take out the stuff I have use and places for already and redistribute the rest in the remaining boxes.

There it is. Most things I hold worth preserving packed up in 21 cardboard boxes (no product placement intended). Looks so much smaller in the picture. Oh and pardon the low quality image mashing, there was no space in the little anteroom to fit all the boxes in one frame. The ugly lamp by the way, is most emphatically not mine, it just landed there on its way out of the house. Among the things I dug out of the first few opened boxes were my gardening books, a hot water bottle which I could've used a couple of days ago while in the throes of a cold, and best of all, my house slippers made out of thick blue felt. The Finns will know the kind, I'm sure. As a general principle, I hold that home is where the dictionaries are, but I am contemplating the possibility of adding felt slippers to the definition.