Oh, my aching...

Somehow, I managed to give birth to The Odd Couple.

The Practical One is Felix. She can’t deal with clutter or filth. To deal with stress, she likes to clean. She generally requests that bins be sent her way the week before finals and de-stresses her way to a perfectly organized farewell.

 Meet Oscar

Musta been da debil…

That was then...

This is now.

I was assured that those were not the same flowers, and I believe her. I had some doubt, however, when I discovered remnants of a piñata whacked in October abiding under the bed.  

Obviously, we had to clean as well as pack.

We bagged and boxed in bins and baskets. Dad deconstructed shelves in the hallway while Whimsy cleaned surfaces and I pushed dirt across the room and fluffed up dust bunnies with a Dirt Devil which lived up to its name.  I had considered giving those little gadgets as graduation gifts this year.

I’ve reconsidered.

We finally borrowed a Bissel 3-in-1 which did the job sufficiently and returned the room to its original glory.  Just consider that a product endorsement.

All the while, we loaded.

Up and down the hall

Up and down the steps

                                         

I felt the need to photograph each set because I woke up that morning determined to be annoying. That’s what the husband said, anyway, when he asked if I had come to load or to blog. Since marriage is all about compromise, I told him that he could load, and I would blog. I’m cooperative like that.

He took away the camera.

We loaded in silence since fellow dorm dwellers were still in the midst of finals and a gag order was in place in the hallways.  This made the work all the more tedious. Personally, I find a little yakkity yak makes any job go faster. Don't you?

Instead, I entertained my brain by counting footsteps.  I counted 178 steps between the door of the room and the door of the car, 44 of which were stair steps. Times twenty.

And I figured that any 49er who lugged a freshman year 3, 560 steps and 880 stairs deserved some pralines and cream ice cream.

And that’s exactly what he got.

Then the mover, the blogger, and the sophomore headed home again, Super Dad in one car, and mother/daughter in the other.  Just in case you’re wondering, it is entirely possible to rehash a royal wedding for two and a half hours and still have more to say.

We pulled the cars across the front lawn and unloaded them into the living room because that was my plan.  Plus, her bedroom is on the second floor.  

I’m calling that pile Bad Bart.

Come Monday morning, I'm giving that varmint 24 hours to get out of town.

Or there will be a showdown. 

Until then, we'll just rest our legs and enjoy.

So...
What about you?
Are you more of a Felix or an Oscar?