The whole household has been in an uproar for the past couple of weeks as the the countdown to the closing on the new house looms and the packing process progresses. (say that 3 times fast!) Yesterday Mary suggested we treat ourselves to one of the casino buffets for Sunday brunch. The food's okay, the price is right, we don't have to cook or do the dishes AND the champagne/mimosas are free.
The problem with buffets is that I eat too much. I've been sticking to my New Year's resolution of losing weight and it's been slow, but progress is being made. One walk through the buffet line and I can feel all those hard-lost pounds creeping back on. By the second walk-through, well, you might as well staple the French toast to my hips. Actually, I did quite well. I tried to choose healthy foods (hard to do), ate modest portions, chose a sugar-free dessert (read that “chemically sweetened and lots of fat”) and the hardest part, drank only one glass of champagne (no OJ).
Luckily, I had some incentive to eat conservatively. Ahead of me in line were two very obese people who waddled through the line piling their plates high enough to require sideboards … and it wasn't their first trip to the buffet line. Imagining myself doing the waddle was all it took to keep me on track. Despite my self-imposed eating limitations, we all had a good time at the buffet before returning home and immersing ourselves in some more heavy-duty packing.
In no time, we had black newsprint-stained hands as we emptied the contents of cupboards and closets, drawers and shelves. David assembled boxes and, once full, stacked them wherever he could find free place. Karen priced and packed items that were designed for the upcoming yard sale. Mary and I worked at carefully wrapping and packing everything we were moving to the new house, leaving out only a few basics to get us through the next week before the move. A sort of controlled chaos ensued. “Where's the packing tape?” “That's not for the yard sale, we're keeping that!” “No, don't pack that; THAT's for the yard sale.” “Did you mark that box?” “Where's the black marker?” By late in the afternoon, we'd accomplished quite a bit … knowing, of course, there's still quite a bit left to do.
All the pictures and decorations are off the walls. How dull and vast and empty all those bare walls look with only picture hangers and nails left to adorn them. Cupboards are empty. Boxes are stacked everywhere. All the little personal tchotchkes that make a house a home are packed up. And now … just more waiting to pack up more stuff, move the stuff and … oh yeah, to unpack it all at the other end, put away the stuff and dispose of all those cardboard boxes and crumbled newspapers.
I'm thinking we'll need another trip through the buffet line.