Ratatouille Is Not In That Box

More adventures in moving and home buying. I should write a “How to not to” guide. Not that it will help anyone else, unless they are us or unfortunately for them, have our “luck.” I feel bad for those people.

In the basement, another round of finding boxes filled with stuff. What is this stuff? Apparently, anything we could fit in the box regardless of the relation of the stuff to other stuff in the box. My favorite today, a box filled with books, porn, a smattering of Legos, and every single Jelly Belly smelly pencil and eraser I could find.

Obviously, I was reading a book (Halo series), while watching porn (free compilation porn that comes free with any purchase of an adult toy), building with Legos (five unrelated pieces) between chapters (book or porn your choice), and deeply inhaling the glorious odor* that is Jelly Belly smelly erasers. Not the pencils, those were still in the packaging. I know, I know how do I live at that speed? I couldn’t, thus I tossed all of the stuff into a box to forget about until today.

There were more casualties of packing, water damaged books, crushed toys, and a metal dump truck covered in rust. Time has not been kind to some of the stuff left in storage. I blame Ferris. I should take responsibility, but it is easier to blame the school. It is a long standing tradition around here to blame the school for misfortune.

While I packed and sorted (5 more bags of garbage), Barb dealt with the bank and the realtor. I am hesitant to mention good news, but there was some good news in the form of accepted paperwork (I am going to guess that this paperwork is accepted for this stage of the process and will be disregarded for the next phase-so not jumping for joy yet) and really awesome home owners. There were some concerns of ours from the inspection. Our options, ignore the problems, present them to the homeowners who could offer a solution or kill the deal. You can guess, I expected them to kill the deal. They did not. They offered a solution or two that quite honestly were thoughtful and nice.

At this moment, the boy and Barb are working on the ratatouille. I know I was supposed to work with him, but I felt he could work with his mother who made bread while I worked in the basement. What really happened was I worked in the basement, came upstairs to assist him, and then took out garbage. Along the way the boy learned to let the knife do the work. He kept pressing down hard instead of sliding the knife over the food. A few times of holding his knife and hand while making proper cuts later and he was a slicing fiend.

Including his palm. Some how he caught his palm with the edge of the knife. He is fine, a small clean cut, quickly taken care of; although if you listened to him his thumb was going to fall off. Having taken time to rest and eat a popsicle, they are working to assemble the dish. Looking forward to diner. Not looking forward to another day/night in the basement, but it must get done.

* It should be noted that smelly pencils and erasers are not so pleasant years later buried under tons of stuff, better than musty moldy smell.



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