Move It or Lose It

Moving Day is tomorrow, and most of our stuff is packed away in boxes lining the living room walls. I look at this mighty fortress of cardboard with pride, because it took us 3 full weeks of blood, sweat and tears to get to this point.

I learned some new things about Este during this time, which I will list below in order of importance.

1. Este Does Not Like to Procrastinate
He thrives on errands. If there is a bill to pay or if we're running low on toilet paper, he makes it his immediate priority. I, on the other hand, like to take a few days to really get to know the task and like to do things only when it becomes urgent (i.e. resorting to Kleenex when out of toilet paper, then resorting to napkins when out of Kleenex). I like deadlines and do well at the last minute, so if this move were up to me, we'd still have cups and plates to drink and eat from.

2. He is a Moving Nazi
Because of Trait #1, not a second was wasted. We packed all weekends and every night. If I took a break to sit down, Este would drag me back up again and put me to work. Apparently, he would say he's not hungry to delay our dinner time because, and I quote, "You work better when you have food as an incentive."

Este learned a new thing about me too. While I was taking a few moments to catch my breath on the couch and relax after a grueling 20 minutes of hard-core packing, he looked at me all forlorn and disappointed and said, "So you're never going to be the kind of girl to run a marathon, huh?"

3. Este is a Pack Rat
He literally has hundreds of t-shirts, the kind that you buy at souvenir shops. He never wears these but refuses to donate or throw them away. I tried to get him to divide the clothes into a keep pile and a trash pile, but he ended up with three separate piles: those that are meaningful, those that are too nice to get dirty, and those that are good for painting/yard work. Despite the fact that we don't have a yard and don't plan to paint, we kept all the shirts.

One day, I come across a tin box in one of his drawers. Este immediately snatches it from me and packs it away.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
I grab the box. He grabs it from me. We have a tug of war.
"Este, what is in here?"
"NOTHING!" He has a look of sheer terror in his eyes, and I start to get scared too. With deep breaths, I say, "I'm not going to be mad. Whatever is in here-- we can get through it. Just let me see what's in the box."
I slowly open the box, expecting oh I don't know...love letters to another girl...dirty magazines...drugs... anything but what was actually in the box:
Hundreds of ball point pens.