Unpacking

There is a moment (or two) in every move when you're almost done unpacking boxes and you realize you don't have item x.

And you panic.

Because item x is either something crucial to your survival that you just can't live without or it's something of such sentimental value that you can't imagine life without it. 

There's always an item x in every single move, and item x changes in every single move. 

I had item x and item y on this move. 

We've plowed through boxes, we've sorted and arranged and placed and replaced items. All boxes have been opened, and we're not in the re-boxing phase of stuff we can't use in this house.

And today I couldn't find two things that would've rendered my life incomplete. 

The first was my collection of Barefoot Contessa cookbooks, which I use for regular weeknight dinners and for every dinner party I ever host. I am not exaggerating. These are entirely replaceable, but I was panicked they weren't here. 

The second was a large mailing tube that contained an original painting by my dear, dear friend Anika. I knew I'd seen the tube a few days ago, but I woke up in the middle of last night panicked because I didn't know where it was. And nothing would do - and I mean nothing - until I found it.  Had the tube been thrown out because someone thought it was empty?  I could not bear the thought. 

I am pleased to tell you that the world is right again.  I have the cookbooks and the painting. 

I've lived to see another move, albeit with a few more gray hairs.