The residential relocation process, we are discovering, has, by its own nature, downshifted to gear one, and we are at a crawl in this maze of corrugated canyons. The viscous flow of the B4 Complex has us shifting boxes of belongings from one spot to another, not at all unlike the tile puzzle game with 15 numbered sliding tiles, 16 positions and one space, and you have to use that one hole to order the tiles properly.
The B4 Complex has attacked our home in an exhausting tile puzzle that manifests thusly:
B4 we can empty the boxes of large art books in my library, the bookshelves must be positioned in the office.
B4 the bookshelves can be positioned in the office, they must be moved into the office.
B4 the bookshelves can be moved in, they must be completely disassembled in the living room and reassembled in the office, due to a tight corner.
B4 the bookshelves can be disassembled in the living room, space must be secured for laying the bookshelves down for disassembly.
B4 laying the bookshelves down, boxes of large art books must be carried or slid into the office to get them out of the way.
B4 there is room for the book boxes, the computer equipment must be put in position in the computer niche—currently the closet in the second bedroom/soon-to-be office.
B4 the closet can become a computer niche, the sliding mirrored doors must be romoved as well as their tracks, and the custom California Closets must be disassembled.
B4 the closet is gutted, a hanging storage rack for all the closet parts must be built under the rafters of the garage.
B4 the storage rack can be built, I must retrieve my Craftsman Radial Arm Saw from the storage unit 3 miles away.
B4 I can get the saw, I must borrow a pick-up truck.
And so it goes… on and on with each task.
All I wanted to do was put my books on the bookshelf. Is that so wrong?