Michael, I have your t-shirt

Do you have a task on your to-do list that you particularly dread?  One that you know you must do but you try to ignore and make it go away?   When I open my calendar, it is as if the dreaded task is bold and italicized – both luminous and menacing.  For the last month, the task that I tried to ignore as the lump of dread grew in my stomach was “Go to storage to get the WSK 1991 box.”  (You really need to read that in a creepy voice for this blog to work. Go back and do so please.  Thanks.)

We had wonderful movers.   I accompanied them to our condo and stayed to unpack.  Andy followed them to the storage facility with my explicit instructions.  If the item had the special tape, in our case Hello Kitty duck tape (who can resist something so fun and frivolous when buying moving supplies?), it must be placed up front.  We will need these items at some point before we move to the new house.

But I was still afraid.  As the movers carried items out of our hall closet and loaded the truck, I saw a box I had completely forgotten.  For those of you who remember the days of P&S Plastics, it was one of those totes.  I packed it after our 10 year reunion and haven’t opened it since.  In the hurry of the move, I tagged it with a few inches of Hello Kitty tape and then pushed it to the back of my mind.

Yesterday, I finally mustered up the courage/realized I was running out of time and drove to our storage facility.  After meandering around for at least 15 minutes instead of asking for directions (stalling!), I opened the first unit to find our garage and lawn items.  If it was buried behind those, the WSK 1991 box would not be joining us for our 20^th.  I moved on to the second unit and felt the tension increase.  Would the coding system have worked?  Would the reunion time capsule and other really important boxes (think sweaters, coats, etc) be accessible?  I rolled up the garage style door and prepared for the worst.  Cue the fanfare. 

Every box with Hello Kitty tape was within my grasp.  Sure, stacked precariously high, but accessible. 

As soon as I had the tote in my trunk, I snapped a photo for Rebecca.  And I grabbed a pile of papers to read in the car line.  What fun.  I promise to bring the entire box to share with all of you.  And Michael can finally get his t-shirt.

Apparently Michael forgot to take home his t-shirt from our ten year reunion.  I threw it into the tote with all the other stuff; yearbooks, Spartan Spirits, and saddle shoes.