I know exactly how Pandora felt. Horrified. Overwhelmed. Ashamed. But mostly just panicked.
On second thought, she shouldn’t have opened the box. REALLY shouldn’t have opened the box. But now it’s too late. What to do next? Run and hide? Try to fix the mess somehow?
And me? I’m sitting in a house full of boxes. Millions and gajillions of boxes. I shouldn’t have acquired so many worldly goods…but now I’ve grown attached to them. They are my life’s travels and my family memories played out in textiles, art, and furniture, and I’ve dragged them halfway across the world with me. Is that wierd/shallow/materialistic? I have no idea. Most days, I’d say it’s essential to being human, this appreciation of things that speak to your soul. But today I can tell you that it makes for a hell of a job unpacking when the movers dump the accumulation on your doorstep.
It’s overwhelming, the thought of having to unpack and organize it all. But it has to be done before the contents rise up on their own and riotously burst the seams of the boxes. One set of boxes, all full of books, crashed over in the middle of the night–sending the dvds and magazine I’d left at the top of the stack slidding across the floor. The message was clear: Step away from the dvds and get on task! Open the boxes! Free the contents to their rightful place in your house!!! If I don’t step up my efforts at unboxing quickly and efficiently, all the contents are sure to go into a full mutiny on me.
So there it is. I like my stuff, but it terrifies me at the moment.
As Pandora said, many weeks later, “you’ll just have to take the good with the bad.” That’s life.
If you haven’t heard from me in a week, send someone knocking on my door. It’s just possible that I’m lost under an avalanche of worldly goods. You can never tell what will pop out of these boxes once opened.