Twenty-two empty cardboard boxes

More or less.  They were all sizes and shapes.  Strong ones and flimsy ones.  The ones people pick up on the curbs in residential neighborhoods.  Some of mine came from Home Depot brand new, and others showed up in the back of a Jeep or off some curb in my own neighborhood.  You know these boxes, don’t you?  Of course.

They were in my garage, just taking up space because t’s almost impossible to carry more than one small box when using a walker.  I was getting a few of the bigger ones out by just bumping them down the driveway with the front edge of the walker.  That wasn’t the safest thing, I know, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

When Betty came last week to help with the unpacking (no, I’m still not finished six weeks later) I asked her to put all of them on the curb.  After all, this is Alvin, Texas in the summertime, and I just knew they would disappear within hours.  Win-win situation for my neighbors and me.  I was so wrong.

I forgot about Bertha.  Lurking out in the Gulf of America.  Then nearing New Orleans.  A few more boxes disappeared.  The storm made it to Beaumont the next day and a few more boxes disappeared.  My plan was working. 

The wind gusts came along with the rain and lightning, right on schedule and right out of Galveston Bay.  Not too bad, but oh-so-messy.  I felt helpless.  There wasn’t any way I could get them all back into the garage, much less hide them in the big garbage bins.  So I just looked out the front window and watched them all get soaked.  I may or may not have uttered some unladylike words.

The next morning I couldn’t get out of my driveway without backing over a big pile of sodden cardboard.  So I did the best I could and knocked a few of them away.  Drove to breakfast anyway.  Around noon I was back home and got to watch the mailman as he pulled up and gaped at the mess.  But what could I do?  If I had tried to get out there and tell him what happened he would’ve been long gone before I ever reached the front door.

So there they sit.  And they will just have to stay there until Tuesday when the trucks come.  And I’m grateful there’s no HOA in downtown Alvin.  I’m embarrassed enough already and I’m planning to find a refresher course somewhere about Making Good Decisions.  My journey continues.