If my life were a novel, some English teacher would be asking her students to write an essay on the symbolism of the "box in the garage". What role does this box play in Betty's life? What is its deeper meaning?
Ever since I can remember, I've had a box in the garage. It used to be just one. One box of my stuff in my parents' garage. Now it is quite a few more, though I've never actually taken the time to count. All of my horn music, dishes, kitchen gadgets and appliances, linens, Christmas decorations, some clothing, and hundreds and hundreds of books are stored not-so-neatly in boxes in Father and Mother Edit's garage.
My small consolation is that at least I'm not the only child with boxes in the garage. If you were to clear out the Edit garage of all the boxes belonging to me, Queen Tuffett, Hollywood, and all the other children, there would actually be room for a car in the garage, maybe even two.
I do feel bad about the boxes, and I really do miss my books and kitchen doo-dads. Someday I'll live in a place where I can have enough space to make use of the two beautiful bookshelves my SuperAunts gave me. For now, however, the boxes in the garage have become more of a running joke between us. Have you lost that old shirt you loved to wear? It's in a box in the garage. Are you looking for your favorite ice cream scoop? It's in a box in the garage. Has your choir music mysteriously disappeared? It's most likely in a box in the garage.
The answer to any question concerning a lost item is always, "It's in a box... in the garage."
Translated, this useful phrase means, "You will never see it again, unless you spend hours and hours, and maybe even days in the garage, sifting through boxes."
Saturday, September 26, 2009
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5 comments:
I went through my box in my parents' garage a few years ago and found a braid of your brother's hair. Seriously.
The garage contains the nearest black hole -- only a micro black hole, but big enough to deal with the things we want to find.
A braid of his hair? Wow. You could send it to him...?
My parents' strategy for ridding themselves of the boxes in the garage was to move every 2 years after I graduated high school. My boxes in the garage have morphed into boxes in my basement. If I cleared out the boxes in the basement, I could have an extra bedroom, maybe two. :-)
Having just moved, this subject is a sore one. I can't, for the life of me, find my cutting boards. They must be, well, you guessed it.
Kinda like the washing machine that eats your matching socks. :D
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