Just desperate

Yeah, we bought a condo and move this week.

It's just across the parking lot from where we live, so not a bad move - maybe a quarter mile - but the tornado twins (Mr. Pass It On Plates and our darling daughter) have so much miscellaneous clutter that I will not move for them... and they won't clean up despite all my nagging.

And I'm good at nagging. Well, apparently too good at nagging because they're good at ignorning.

It's nagging karma, I guess.

In the living room we have a large 10 foot wide by 6 foot high bookcase packed full of books. I calculated that we need about 28 paper boxes (the kind offices get reams of paper in) to pack up the bookcase.

Last weekend I worked on packing books and used up the last of the book boxes. With only a few large boxes left, I started packing up some other stuff when I realized I needed some bags. Not just any bags; I needed the gigantic blue bags you can only get at Ikea.

Plus, we were out of olive oil.

Yes, this is how my mind works. Some days it's amazing I can get anything done!

I mentioned the need for bags and oil to Mr. Pass It On Plates and he stared at me. I know he was thinking, "Sheesh Woman, you're just desperate to get out of packing."

I stared back at him and thought, "Man, I'm just desperate to get back up to the city."

I invited him to go with me on my errand for ridiculous necessities but he declined. The Seahawks were playing the Rams and they needed his support. Somehow he's got me convinced that his watching football on tv helps his team win, but I'm not sure of the science behind that. Besides, he's a Vikings fan, so there's no proof he was any help to the Seahawks in the first place.

Anyway, I grabbed the kiddo, hopped in the car and drove up to Ikea (only an hour away - hey, my car gets great mileage!) to buy 6 shopping bags for about a buck each. While in Ikea I examined the kitchens, living room layouts, closets, and the office. *Sigh* Pass It On Plates needs that office with the white cupboards, the big table, and the spacious computer desk...

Then Mr. Pass It On Plates sent me a text: "When you go to TJ's, get some black olive Tapanade."

Uh huh. "See, you needed me to come up here," I replied.

After we explored all the dream kitchens and dream offices at Ikea we headed out of the city back down to So-Lame Salem, stopping at Trader Joe's to get some decent olive oil and tapenade. They have no Italians or Greeks out here in Oregon, so decent groceries are hard to find in the regular stores. I'm not Italian or Greek, but I would be if I could be. $25 and several other grocery items later I left Trader Joe's at closing time with a ton of empty, flattened boxes.

They were just the perfect size for packing up the rest of the books.

See? I knew what I was doing.

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