The Great Box War of 2010

We are moved. Three simple words to sum up the final stages of our ever so complicated military relocation. It's funny, really. Other military people do it even more often than we do. I don't know why this time was such a complicated ordeal. Of course it might have something to do with the enormous piles of beloved trinkets and knick-knacks we insist on saving despite the fact that they serve no purpose what so ever. Nah, probably not. I'm blaming it on the deployment. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

The moving company is supposed to take all the old boxes with them so you don't have to get rid of them yourselves. Our movers didn't. Thanks guys! If they had done their jobs properly we wouldn't have had the honor or being awarded the "Most Obnoxious Redneck Neighbors From Hell" medal. Such prestige is nothing to take lightly. We weren't in the new house 48 hours and people on three sides of us were already contacting the rental company to discuss buying out our lease. Think I joke?

27 bags, 3 extra large capacity cans, 4 giant boxes of leaves, and two stacks of broken down boxes each 6 feet tall. This was what we set out at the curb on trash day.

The truck had to run the compactor 3 times just at our driveway. 3 times. Luckily the sound covered up the loud curses of the collectors who might have broken a commandment but definitely took our names in vain.

And we still aren't done. We still have all our objects d'art to stash. I mean arrange.

Oh yeah, and a play-set to assemble.

But for now we are mostly situated in our lovely retro house. My mom managed not to snicker out loud but I know she's enjoying a good chuckle at my expense. OK, I may have teased her a bit about her orange carpet and lovely orange-rust-avocado striped wallpaper and so God has blessed us with a very reasonable but totally 70's house. 3000 sq feet of retro loveliness. I can adjust to wood floors with a pattern and orange finish. (Even though Barney now blends in so well it's only a matter of time before I step on him!) I can handle two bathrooms tiled floor to ceiling in swirly green marble. My Brady Bunch kitchen has character. But I drew the line at a formal living and dining room adorned with gold sheers accented with strands of beads. I'll live in a retro house but I draw the line when retro meets red-light district. At least the basement carpet is chocolate brown. It could be worse. It could be orange shag.