Congo, not condo
Helping daughter pack for a new job in Africa
 

Loose Ends Susan Nienow

She's moving. The 17th plastic lid snapped closed on my daughter's 17th plastic storage bin. I put a strip of yellow electrical tape on it. Yellow means, "Somebody carry this down to the basement." Electrical tape means daughter. Masking tape means son and daughter-inlaw. They finished their apartment downsizing so those bins have already been dispersed to the attic, upstairs bedroom or basement.

When I was talking to a woman about my angst over my daughter moving, the woman didn't say anything - no reaction. I thought she was pretty insensitive at the least. As I talked on she finally said, "Oh, Congo! I thought you said she was moving to a condo, and I wondered what the big deal was."

I thought I had quite a bit of experience in this area since we moved overseas a number of years ago. Then my other half reminded me that we had a 40-foot sea/land container. Our daughter is taking the maximum allowable luggage - three suitcases, 50 pounds each and no more. Oh, and one 25-lb. carry-on. They will contain a year's worth of toothpaste and ibuprofen. How much toothpaste does one person use in a year, anyway?

My husband, my daughter and I provided entertainment for the shoppers at the discount stores last week as we carted a bathroom scale through each one weighing suitcases. We had it down to a system - all of the large, then medium and last of all, the carryon. Deciding factors were weight and price.

She brought nine suitcases home and spent one afternoon trying them out. When the only criteria are weight and cheap, there isn't any room for style or color. So she has a bright red suitcase, a bright yellow one and a lime green one - and a new pair of sunglasses.

She quickly discovered that 50 pounds worth of important stuff didn't fill the large ones. That was bad news. She was reduced to three medium-sized suitcases. And the list of things she needs to take includes sheets, towels, pillow, 12-months of toiletries, not to mention clothes and shoes.

We are storing an old prom dress, all her winter clothes, 38 stuffed animals and an assortment of "things I saved because they're important to me." No room for argument there. And we now have another microwave and a third blender.

My list of things that she "has to take" includes vitamins, packets of chicken soup, an umbrella, a raincoat and the crutches she has used several times. But she drew the line at chicken soup, the umbrella and the crutches.

I imagine that in about six or eight months, when we are planning a trip to see her, we will receive an email listing the things she wants us to bring - chicken soup, her umbrella and the crutches - well, maybe not the crutches. After we put everything on her list in our suitcases, my other half and I expect to have to pack all of our travel clothes in our carry-on bags.