Moss, is humor writer from Tennessee. She writes a
weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny
things that happen to everyone.
She has written for the Daily News of Kingsport, Griffin Journal,
Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton
Advocate, and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News
Journal. She has been
published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks
at Guidepost Books. Her articles have appeared in
numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.
She is a
former board member and past Editor of the Columnists.com, website of the National Society of Newspaper
oldest and largest professional organization
for columnists. She is the Web Editor of
Humorists.com and a founder of the Southern Humorists writers'
organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com.
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Online Since 1999
We are moving. Our office is being remodeled
and we must move from place to place to get out of the way of
construction. Few things are as disruptive and disorienting as
trying to move and trying to conduct business as usual at the
This is our second and, hopefully, final move. Some people in
the office will move three or more times, so I hate to
complain about moving only twice in the same year. We are like
frogs hopping from pad to pad.
The aisles are full of pink moving bins like a highway under
construction lined with orange barrels. Plastic bins are the
new thing. No more cardboard boxes. Now it is plastic crates,
all the same size and stacked on top of each other with a flat
dolly under each stack, so they are easy to move.
This is supposed to be more economical as the plastic bins are
rented and reusable. It is also supposed to be
"green" as it eliminates the need to recycle a bunch
of used cardboard boxes. Cardboard is, at least, biodegradable
while plastic is forever. But that isn't my problem. My
problem is only to be sure everything gets in a pink crate
before the 4 PM deadline.
There is a method to the madness. You pack the bottom crate
first, then stack an empty one on top of it, fill it up and so
on. Hinged tops are attached so no tape or assembly is
involved. Of course, you must be sure not to overfill the bin
or the lid won't close. Somehow whatever you put in one of
these things is invariably about half an inch too high forcing
you to repack the entire thing.
When you move, you always pack something important that you
end up needing before you go, something you hardly ever use,
but when you reach for it in the usual spot, it isn't there.
For me it was an important folder, one I thought I was
finished with until I packed it. I finally found it in basket
along with other papers. At least I didn't throw it away.
"Can I use your stapler?" is an inquiry from the
next cubicle. "I packed mine already."
I hope it doesn't run out of staples, I think, racking my
brain to try to
remember which bin I might have packed them in. I'll be so
glad when I can find my stuff again.
Moving presents the opportunity to clean out files and get rid
of old papers, duplicates, and things that probably didn't
need to be filed in the first place. Of course, as soon as it
hits the bottom of the recycle bin, you realize that you have
thrown out the one thing you had intended to keep. Cross your
fingers and hope no one needs it before it is obsolete, or go
dumpster diving in the recycle bin and dig it out.
Anyhow, today is the day. We finished packing our office life
into the pink plastic tombs. After we go home tonight, movers
will come like shadows in the night and invisibly move them to
the new destination.
Tomorrow we will reverse the process and unpack and wonder why
we thought some of the things we packed were important enough
to move, and where in the world are we going to put all this
It is hard to decide which is worse, the packing or the
unpacking. It should be fabulous to have a clean new office
once the dirty work is done. If only we could skip the
unpacking part and go straight to the new office part, things
would really be fantastic.
If you will pardon me now, my stapler just ran of staples.
Maybe if I ask nicely and hold my mouth just right, I can
borrow some until after this exodus.
Copyright 2013 Sheila Moss
Nashville, TN 37219
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