Mea Culpa!

 Jim and I have embarked on a year-long adventure, moving temporarily to DC to be closer to family, and I’ve been busy cleaning closets and drawers this week to prepare for the move. There. I’ve written a declarative sentence. I’m trying to anchor myself and you, dear reader, for the rush, the profusion, the tsunami of facts to follow because moving, I’m finding out, is not a simple matter. Especially when you’ve been in the same house since 1977, raised three kids there, and added on a few rooms along the way. 

Although a team of scientists at Tulane has shown exceptions to Aristotle’s idea that every space needs to be filled with something, the contents of our drawers, closets, and cabinets tip the scales in favor of horror vacui. Turns out, we’ve got a lot of stuff and there’s no room to pt it in the 1200 square foot townhouse where we are moving. 

Phase I of our moving project sounds simple. Go through the house to set aside and pack ONLY what you plan to bring to DC. Regarding toiletries, that means reducing the contents of three medicine cabinets, six drawers, four closet shelves, and two base cabinets under our sinks. This task is of such monstrous proportions that resorting to prayer has been a viable solution. As a kid, and now when in need of recentering, inspiration, and consolation, litanies serve well. As I confront this monster of a task, I’m begging both forgiveness and aid. For having discovered:

• Seven plastic bottles of isopropyl alcohol.             Lord, have mercy.

• Three extra-large packages of Q-tips. 

                    Lord, I know, what was I thinking? 

• Leftover boxes of Dove and Irish Spring from the Big Box Store. Lord, have mercy.

• Countless unused hotel shampoos and conditioners - all furtively rescued.   Mea culpa.

• Lightly scratched emory boards ready for the next mani.  Lord, have mercy!

• Lip balms enough for a dozen Minnesotans’ six cold winters.      

Deliver me, Oh Lord.

• 13 half-used eyeliners and pencils in need of sharpening and old enough to irritate or worse, cause pink eyes, styes, or more severe infections. Lord have mercy!

• Old eyeshadows dry, caked, and suitable only for pitching. Lord, have mercy!

• Warming balms that never really did the trick. Forgive them, Lord!

• All manner of pain relief lotions containing menthol, hemp, lavender, CBD, and even THC. Lord, give me strength and forbearance!

• Expired homeopathic remedies that hardly worked. Lord, increase my trust in you!

• Opened and barely used bottles of Melatonin. Packets of Wonder Sleep Gummies. Valerian capsules. Tara Deep Rest Roll on Remedy. Lavender oils, sprays, lotions, and creams. Better You Magnesium spray for sleep. Lord, grant me rest!

• Body Butters flavored in Woodland, Coconut, and Lavender, and hand creams from various exotic brands. Forgive my indulgence, Lord!

• Toothpicks, wrapped in cellophane, having been snagged from many restaurants (in another decade, I would be talking here about too many books of matches)

Deliver me, Oh Lord.

• Dental Floss - many in small containers gifted after every dental cleaning. 

Mea maxima culpa. 

• A baggy of hardened THC gummies left over from the days they were considered illegal, that someone gave me, but that I never used. Deo gratias!

• Pressed facial powder that always made me feel sophisticated, but ghoslike, yet I never tossed it.

Lord, help me toss it now.

• Oil for cuticles bearing the forbidding word terminator; nail polishes revealing my penchant for natural colors, five half-used remover bottles.         Lordy, lordy!

• A copper tongue scraper from the 2003 New Age Health Fair.

• Easily tossed, Lord, with no regrets.

I also found a baggy filled with used toothbrushes set aside for scouring small places. Given the size of our new digs, I'm definitely bringing these. 

Jokes, fear, and trepidation aside, I don’t regularly check my horoscope, but this morning I did. Given the enormity of our decision to move, I’m sure it makes sense how pleased I was to read somewhere that, astrologically speaking, June 24th is considered the luckiest day of 2025. That was the day Jim and I signed the lease to move to our rental.

Lord, have mercy!