Thursday, December 2, 2021

Sharing

 With still more packing awaiting me, I carefully unpacked the boxes we took and saved the packing materials. I reloading them in the basement of the RV. Two doors of the basement were a bit beaten and the living room slide-out no longer functioned, but it still drives and it got us home.

Something was leaking water on the way home and my best laid plans were delayed. Not to be overcome, I placed all the wet bottomed boxes in the sun, then retaped them after they dried. Fortunately it was a calm day with very little wind about. I unloaded the RV by myself as HeWho was occupied showing the park and all of the systems.

To be honest I did not want or need his help. I have a system. I worked from the back to the front and then unloaded everything. He would have grabbed this and that and announced completion before every nook and cranny was investigated. He loads the same way. I crawled in the basement and reloaded all the necessary items that stay on board before the trip. I created a lot more space and found lots of things that belonged in the dumpster, such as a mildewed bed cover that matched the interior of the RV. I answered in the negative when he asked if I was going to wash it and bring it back to life. It was pretty bad.

 I was still doing laundry yesterday when I got the call about selling the truck. I think I was on load 13. HeWho was reclined and about to doze off when I told him a test drive would be happening that evening. Just so you know, I would have told him that even if it didn't happen until this weekend. He is the Master of Procrastination.

I am sure I might have mentioned before that HeWho is sorely lacking in organizational skills of any kind. His vehicles are always a mess. Only the driver's seat is accessible. The passenger seat and floorboard are level with "stuff" he swears he needs. Only when Kevin was alive was the passenger side of his truck able to hold another person. I think that Kevin may have had more to do with that than just his occupying the seat. He probably cleaned it out himself. Since our dear friend has gone to heaven, HeWho has reverted back to his old ways.

He heaved up out of his seat, hardly waiting for the automatic lift to catch up with him. "Where ya goin?" said his wife. "I have to empty my truck!" says HeWho procrastinates.  The man is hard to shame, as everyone he knows jokes about his truck interior. There was an occasion when he was gone south for an operation his mom had and left the truck behind. It was a different truck, it was bigger. I gathered some plastic containers and cleaned it out. Top to bottom, yes I did! Keeping in mind that he is often called to repair water and electric issues and sewer back ups, I labeled my containers thusly and sorted tools and spare parts for each system, placing them adjacent each other in the back seat of the truck.

I don't know what I was thinking! His normal mode of operating is to dig around in various piles of stuff before declaring his need to go pick up more parts. I am familiar enough with the parts to put them in the right container and I found an abundance of parts that he couldn't "find". Not to mention that these common parts are sorted and at the ready in my laundry room and in his barn all helter skelter. But, I digress. He is not going to develope better habits at this age.

He headed outside and grabbed a trashcan on his way. I supplied him with boxes and suggestions that fell on deaf ears. I suggested he pack items as he went. That didn't happen. I ventured out after hanging laundry on the line. The dryer wasn't keeping up with my washer and we all know I like solar energy anyway. I looked out the window and saw that he had pulled his truck adjacent the RV. This caused my heart to flutter, as I knew it would be just like him to transfer all the crap in his truck to the basement of the RV that is also being sold. I had just cleaned out eveything the day before!

I approached the event going on in the driveway, relieved to see that he wasn't putting anything in the RV. He was putting things, no, he was dropping things in a box. Sorting out only the trash. No carefully packing so that things fit snug and neatly. He was through (well, almost) with the passenger seat and then he opened the back door ....

Crank up the washer again, because another two loads of clothes were unveiled! Three fleece lined flannels, a fleece lined hoodie, a couple of flannel shirts, some safety yellow shirts with "Bud's Towing" emblazened on them , as well as the safety yellow rain slicker with glow in the dark stripes. I loaded my arms with most of them and then went back for the rest. That is when I saw a pair of jeans, brand new, the label still on them!

I left the scene of the crime after that and Craig helped him. Personally I think he should have had to complete the task on his own.  But it was just as well, since I wanted to sell the truck. Thanks to Craig and his patience, the truck is no longer ours. My car is, though. Scary, right? We will be sharing one vehicle.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Bravo! You complement each other. Your strengths agains his weaknesses, and, I am sure, the reverse. See? Y'all are made for each others. You are living proof that opposites attract. Can you imagine being married to someone who is just like you? How boring would that be? :)

I am trying not to be sad that you're leaving the RV site. Goodness knows it has entertained us immensely. But am beginning to look forward to enjoying this new phase. Just keep loving each other. And be well.

Cheryle B. said...

Love your blog Kathy! Been reading for years but never commented. You make me laugh and smile which an old woman like me needs daily. Thanks, Cheryle

Val said...

Now HeWho will have a brand new wardrobe when you move to your new place! You might need to prepare yourself to ride in the back seat, if he takes the shared car out every day. No bare surface is safe from a "collector."

River said...

I think you are going to have to put your foot down and make him take his junk EVERY time he exits your car. It's the only way to avoid an avalanche each time he or you opens the door.