Dearest Rachel –
I want to first point out that I don’t say that out of any need to be ‘cool’ or anything – although those accessories would seem undeniably make me look a lot cooler than I am. It’s also not just because this is turning into an archaeological dig of our relationship. It’s because, in the crawlspace, I could use some kind of protection for my head, so that I avoid hitting the rafters – Not to mention that the whip would allow me someplace to hang the lights from, because otherwise it’s terribly dark down there.
This is the view from two thirds of the way in, and Jan and I have done what we can to reposition the lights that originally hung fairly near the entrance. I mean – and you already knew this – this place goes in deep.
Jan keeps telling me about all the words she’s going to have with you someday. Granted, that’s assuming she remembers by the time she gets up there. Not that I doubt her ability to remember, but considering how unimportant it will all be once we’re all there together, will there be any point in bringing it up? But still…
…the amount of empty toilet paper rolls you saved – ostensibly for church crafts at some point in time – can’t help but give us pause. I get what you were thinking in saving these things; what I can’t figure out is when you expected to recall and get these things out when they might have been needed.
I find myself having to shrug and apologize on your behalf on a number of occasions as we make our way into the bowels of the crawl space, in fact.
Some finds are likely to be useful to someone, if not necessarily Daniel and I. For example, there was an unopened(!) Noritake box with bowls and cups in some sort of Native American style pattern:
It may even include saucers for the cups, but I didn’t bother to take anything out to confirm whether or not that was so. Still, I expect that they might well fetch a decent price for the Goodwill folks.
But still, there’s a startling amount of just plain junk that you stored down here. Aluminum foil and plastic dishware from fast food places; bags, napkins, and the like from those same fast food establishments; even used paper towels. I am guessing that you kept the former so that you could recycle it once you’d washed it, but you never got around to washing any of it – and you never would, stored as it was in the crawlspace like this. The rest of the garbage has to have been for the sake of burning in the fireplace, I can only surmise. But we had so much burnable material already. Perhaps I should just be grateful that nothing spontaneously combusted while in the crawlspace itself. And don’t you try to accuse me of kidding around about this; I have photographic evidence… galore.
Hope you’d approve of that, at least.
And, of course, with all the Christmas material stored down there, inevitably there is a box of old used wrapping paper you meant to reuse:
I know it seems wasteful, honey, and I’m kind of sorry to throw these things out. But we were never going to get back down to this box to use these pages, and we have plenty of rolls of wrapping paper as things are. For all that I’ve already thrown out at this point, this is a drop in the bucket; and yet, I feel the need to apologize nonetheless, as I know this is going against your wishes. But let’s face facts; was this ever going to do more than just molder down here in the crawl space?
Still, for all the incredulous wondering we’re having at your expense, I share some of the blame for the mess down here. Literally one of the heaviest boxes down here is my responsibility, being comprised of Journal Of Accountancy magazines for what I would guess to be at least three years:
Anyway, it’s enough that we find ourselves calling a lid to the day an hour earlier than originally planned. Which is just as well, as there is a lot of photographic documentation for me to put together and send to you to let you know how things are going. I understand if you’re upset that I’m throwing stuff out like this, but like the pharaohs of old, do you have any need for this at this point? Even I don’t, and I’m still here.
Hope you can understand, and remember that I love you.
Letters to Rachel 