how to pack
At nine o'clock in the morning, before she left for work, my roommate sat down at the kitchen table and wrote down on a piece of paper, "I, Julianne B- ask Katerina to take my teddy bear, my cds, my photo albums, and some clothes including my good shoes."
I read the list outloud over her shoulder. "So that's what you're going to take with you today?"
"No, it's what Katerina shold grab for me if the apartment catches fire."
I glanced out of the window to where twelve storeys of apocalyptic smoke blackened the sky two blocks away. Down below, a line of men in uniforms stood ready in front of our building, waiting for the slightest wind shift to tempt the fire with the prospects of fresh fodder. Because who would be satisfied with an empty warehouse, when there's plenty of prime real-estate right next door?
"Umm, if our house catches fire," I said, "I don't think Katerina's going to want to spend time going through your stuff." I had my own mental list prepared and a backpack filled with journals, notebook, laptop, phone charger and a sweater.
"But Kat's asleep in my room and I can't get to my stuff," Julie said. (don't ask)
So I woke Katerina up so that she could enjoy the adventure and so that Julie could pack some stuff. The firemen said the fire could easily spread, so before I left for work, I made a second pile of things to come back for: guitar, dolls, dailies tapes (mine- forgot to pack the clients'), another sweater.
It was exciting somehow, the idea of losing everything I owned. Forget all of my obsessing over the perfect duvet to match my walls or agonizing over the shade of a clay pot for my jasmine plant. Forget it all. Leave it behind, get out. I could quit my job as an editor. Start fresh. Despite the real danger,despite the fact that I just bought good monitoring speakers and a great television monitor, I stlll smelled it in the air, and it made my toes itch. Of course, I probably would have been really upset when I realized I forgot to pack any underwear, or when sleeping on friends' couches made me long for my perfect room with its duvet cover (navy/green) and potted plants. But still. Still. For one moment...
I read the list outloud over her shoulder. "So that's what you're going to take with you today?"
"No, it's what Katerina shold grab for me if the apartment catches fire."
I glanced out of the window to where twelve storeys of apocalyptic smoke blackened the sky two blocks away. Down below, a line of men in uniforms stood ready in front of our building, waiting for the slightest wind shift to tempt the fire with the prospects of fresh fodder. Because who would be satisfied with an empty warehouse, when there's plenty of prime real-estate right next door?
"Umm, if our house catches fire," I said, "I don't think Katerina's going to want to spend time going through your stuff." I had my own mental list prepared and a backpack filled with journals, notebook, laptop, phone charger and a sweater.
"But Kat's asleep in my room and I can't get to my stuff," Julie said. (don't ask)
So I woke Katerina up so that she could enjoy the adventure and so that Julie could pack some stuff. The firemen said the fire could easily spread, so before I left for work, I made a second pile of things to come back for: guitar, dolls, dailies tapes (mine- forgot to pack the clients'), another sweater.
It was exciting somehow, the idea of losing everything I owned. Forget all of my obsessing over the perfect duvet to match my walls or agonizing over the shade of a clay pot for my jasmine plant. Forget it all. Leave it behind, get out. I could quit my job as an editor. Start fresh. Despite the real danger,despite the fact that I just bought good monitoring speakers and a great television monitor, I stlll smelled it in the air, and it made my toes itch. Of course, I probably would have been really upset when I realized I forgot to pack any underwear, or when sleeping on friends' couches made me long for my perfect room with its duvet cover (navy/green) and potted plants. But still. Still. For one moment...
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