“Where are all the trash cans?” my husband asked.
The frustration in his voice was duly noted.
You prep, you purge, you get organized all in an effort to
have your pack-out go smoothly but right before the doorbell rings at 8 a.m. of
pack-out day there is the ninth-hour push.
The suitcases that contain all the possessions that you
absolutely, positively cannot under any circumstances live without for the next
2 months are hustled into the bathroom and a “Do Not Pack” (DNP) sticky is
taped to the door.
You shut the door behind you for good measure.
Items that you still need to use until you fly out – like
the landline phone – also have a DNP sticky on it as my daughter found out
earlier this morning when she had to pull off the sticky to answer the phone.
As does the coffee maker. And the cable tv DVR that has to be returned to the
cable company. And the wireless router … that I need to continue to post my
blogs and answer my emails. And the dehumidifiers. And the microwave that are
U.S. Government property – failure to return these items upon check out from
your Quarters will result in a hefty fee.
The bedrooms are labeled – “Boy A” “Boy B” “Girl” – so on
the other side you can direct the “unpackers” which room the boxes will live
in. Hoping I’ll remember which son was designated as A and B …
The electronic boxes that have been stashed since the last
move have been pulled for their triennial use. Two computer boxes, one tv box,
one lamp box, one DVD box, and one sewing machine box. One day I will be able to pitch those damn boxes,
the boxes that signify my life is in transition. Seriously, who keeps these?
Only people who know they’ll be
moving again. And again. And again.
The live plants have been gifted to my neighbor – who will
this year be one of the left-behinds. She will have an endless supply of
rosemary, sage and aloe. It was the one moment in all of this mayhem where I
lost it – I’m sure some medical person well versed in psych-speak would have
much to say about the symbolism of plants/roots/friendships/transference/sorrow.
Getting back to the trashcans – they have all been emptied,
sprayed with disinfectant (we do have
a resident medical professional in the household), wiped down and are nested
together – well away from anyone who may be tempted to lob any unwanted trash
into them, to be packed and shipped half way around the world.
And then … and then that’s it. Your job is done until you
see your possessions on the other side.
It has been a great ride living here in Japan. An amazing experience for this Gaijin family of five.
The packers are on the tail end and my hope for one more post before the wrestle the computer from me is gone. I will try to continue writing on the other side, this next year will hold many changes for us as our twin sons prep for their college departure.
Thank you dear readers for following our adventures and as my friend Gracious Explorer said we will say Mata-Ne (see you later) and not Sayonara (good-bye). Till next time, mata-ne.
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