One of my most notable achievements is what’s in my basement: A box collection that is the envy of everyone who has ever moved. So if you’re in the military, or a part of a witness protection program that relocates you every time you blow your cover, I’m happy to give you a tour. The strange truth is that we’ve moved so much in the past two years that my husband has actually become attached to one box in particular. It’s his favorite, the one I’m never allowed to toss, and it’s so torn and crumpled that it’s not really so much a box as it is a testament to the powers of clear strapping tape. Thank you, 3M Corp.
I’ll confess that I have my own special box in the basement. It’s the one with the big “Z” on it written in black Sharpie. It’s my Zwaggle box, and it’s full of stuff right now that I found in, you guessed it, the basement. There are some of my daughter’s summer clothes from last year that she’ll outgrow before the next. I’ve got toys and electronics that we never unpacked from our last move, so we obviously don’t need them as much as we were convinced we did when we packed them almost a year ago. There are some videos that we’ll never watch again, not because they aren’t good, but because Baby Einstein just isn’t cool anymore. The basement has been my Zwaggle mine. Until today, when I made a rookie mistake upon returning to my car from my bi-monthly pilgrimage to COSTCO.
While I was cruising the aisles of barrels of tomatoes and vats of sour cream, I had forgotten something that wasn’t on my shopping list. It never occurred to me that, after filling my cart with toilet paper, paper towels, and dog food, I was going to have to actually take it all home with me. Oops. While I wouldn’t say that I’ve got a lot of junk in my trunk, I will say that I realized there in the parking lot that I needed desperately to Zwaggle my ride.
After some re-arranging and stuffing, and understanding for a moment why some people choose minivans and SUVs, I took my things home, where I promptly dragged a new box out of the basement. I made like Zoro with a Sharpie by pasting a big black “Z” on it, and went to work on what was going on in my car. I placed a ban on all books, bears, and ball caps that hadn’t been touched since the Clinton administration. While it’s nice to keep an umbrella in the car for those rare occasions I get caught in the middle of a drizzle, I don’t really need five of them. I had spare, “just in case” outfits that my daughter had outgrown ages ago. And, dare I say, there were no gloves in the glove box; just some CDs that we hadn’t touched since long before Greg had even considered leaving The Wiggles. (We’re pulling for you, Greg.) Into the box they went. Inspired, I drew from my collection a few more times, claiming “Z” boxes for the kitchen, garage, and play spaces. As the immortal James Brown once said, “I feel good!”
Next I’m going to consider what I do need. Summer’s coming, and I’m totally unprepared for the outdoor life that we’ll be enjoying more of now that my little one’s going on 4. Considering that, maybe I’ll even—no kidding—post my boxes, except for my husband’s fave, on Zwaggle. Mafia rats and military brass, that’s your cue to register and log in.
