Things are going into boxes already. There is a stack of boxes in our entrance and we have been wrapping the fragile pieces of memorabilia and tucking them into their temporary homes for the long drive northward. In doing so, personal priorities and ancient artifacts sometimes come into contention.
While Joel was at choir rehearsal, I took the initiative to wrangle our candles together to get them stored. We can live without candles for the next couple of weeks, so it made sense to get them out of the way. I had set a few aside that needed to be tossed, and started to gather up the rest. Before I was done, I had a huge armload of drooping, misshapen wax. I wasn’t sure I had a box that would work for them all. You can’t really stack them, and they aren’t tall enough to lay on the side. Plus, they are all more organically shaped than the fresh columns we started with. I finally found a short box that I could stand them in, but it was just barely tall enough. They all couldn’t go, so I had to leave a few of the bigger ones for later. I tucked newspaper around them to keep them in their place. I was so proud when I was done. It felt like I had finished working one of those word problems that starts like “There are three objects. The first is one-third of the total volume of the other two multiplied by 2…”
I was watching Judith, our dear friend, on television when I moved on to the platters and bowls. I had lost all track of time. Joel comes bounding in after rehearsal, and was thrilled that I had gotten more packing done. I mention the candles, and he tells me that he had planned to throw most of them away. I didn’t bother to mention the chore it was to get them in the box just so. I smile, and move back to the platters and bowls. “There are two people in a room. One can solve complex volumetric problems, and the other can see that there is no problem to solve. Which is smarter?”