ound out that our 1949 bungalow has termites. Not bad, but worrying. We’re not going to just tent and gas (that only is good for a few years). Rather, we’re going to treat, which means injecting shit into the baseboards to keep them at bay. Also, they’ll climb under the house and put poison barriers around all the supports. Fine and good, right?

However, to get AT the baseboards, they need to get TO the baseboards. The problem there is that we read a lot of books and have bought a lot of DVDs (yes, I know, old school, right?). I mean, a lot of books. Some are in book shelves. Some are on board ‘n brick shelves. Some are stacked along the walls in the bedroom. And all those need to get moved out.

We had a pod delivered onto our driveway – we needed twelve feet but got a sixteen instead. So then, last weekend, I started moving stuff out. Five boxes of DVDs (thirty running feet of them, not counting the stacks). And the books? Hundreds and hundreds of them. I carried them out in the hot Florida sun for two, three days.I sweated my literal balls off doing it. It took the wife two days to select what books she wanted to keep from the bedside stacks and a trunk-load of rejects to Goodwill. But I finally got it clear.

The back wall of the pod, loaded with hundreds of books.

We’re not out of the woods yet. We’ve still got my wife’s horde-stack under the dining room table and the closets (that’s “Fibber MaGee & Molly” territory). That’s this weekend’s effort.

And once the bug men come, then… I gotta move it all back in. It’s a modern, scholastic version of Sisyphus.

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