I found a pen on the mantel in the family room. I have no idea why it was there, or how long it had been there. Also, it didn’t work.
If you’re my Facebook friend, you already know this: I’m moving. It’s all I talk about. If you’re not one of my Facebook friends, count yourself lucky, and then, here’s the news: I’m moving. On Friday.
As my very wise friend Kelly said (via Facebook): Moving pushes all of your buttons — logistics, routine, money and relationships. Dude. So true. Plus, as it turns out, I don’t actually like change. So this whole process has been hard for me. I don’t like mess, I don’t like disorder, so I’m in hell. Hence, I’m drinking more wine than I used to and looking for humor where I can find it.
This is one of about 40 pens we found in the laundry room, along with a corkscrew and an Ergo infant insert that I’d meant to give to a friend, like, four years ago.
I found it very funny, for instance, that in every room we packed, we found pens. One expects to find pens in, say, the office, or the kitchen. But we found pens everywhere: on top of the mantel in the family room, in the laundry room, in the coat closet, in the garage. What would one need to write in the coat closet, I wonder?
Anyway, we now have more pens than an office supply store — a ragtag collection of writing instruments that will, inevitably, be strewn around our new house in short order.
Categories: Moving
