In celebration of one year of moved-into-our-new-housedness, and because I'm too tired to come up with anything exciting for my numero uno blog post, here's a rediscovered bit of writing:
There are but a few things in life that fill one with absolute, untainted happiness. My latest joy: unpacking boxes.
I get chills as my scissors, splayed apart to make use of a single blade, slice through the packing tape with a satisfying rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiip. My heart beats with anticipation and then jubilation as I rediscover all of my things--books, linens, the soapstone carving I bought from the Kenyan guy at Disney World--and find a place for them in my new dwelling.
But nothing--NOTHING--equates to the ecstasy of looking into an empty box, flipping it over, scissors in hand, and slicing through the tape on the bottom--rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiip --reducing the box into nothing more than a flat piece of cardboard. I am beaming as a new space opens up in front of me. One less obstacle in the maze of boxes.
I take a deep breath and smile in accomplishment before I look around for the next box to empty. I don't have to look far.
