A little more than three years ago, I helped my then very newly ex-boyfriend pack up his life. I was packing a box of kitchen stuff when it occurred to me very plainly that some other, new girlfriend sometime in the future would be helping to unpack them. And I was very sad and angry about the whole situation at the time.
I sat there for the longest time trying to decide whether my bitter nature would win out. How to pack the knives? Do I want them to be blindly wrapped in newpaper, so she might hurt herself opening them? What to do about the little port glasses he was so very, very fond of? Should I wrap them so thoroughly that she's liable to miss one or two, thinking they're just wads of newspaper, and throw them out?
I don't know if the boxes had been unpacked and repacked in the three years since I put them together. I do know that ultimately, I tied a little flag of masting tape around the handles warning that this was a knife. And I warned him repeatedly that the port glasses and salt and pepper shakers were wrapped and then put inside of other glasses.
This morning, through the miracle of modern communications, I woke up to an entry by that not-so-new girlfriend about unpacking his stuff. No mentions of injured hands or missing pepper shaker lids.
I'm glad I didn't try to sabatoge her unpacking when I put those boxes together. I really am happy for them. It's not something I anticipated when I decided to throw everything together the way I did, but I am actually happy for them.
posted by mary ann 4:25 PM