Chaos Theory and My Life

Murphy's Law on Steriods

Day 4 of THE MOVE

When the first day of the month starts with an accepted house offer, the rest can only be chaos. It's been a while since I really spent any time trying to understand chaos theory (it was chaotic--sorry) but my recollection is that the big minds were trying to find patterns in seemingly random acts. The Butterfly Effect is part and parcel of this. Great minds say that small, seemingly benign acts like the fluttering of butterfly wings at the start of an "event" can determine the outcome of a series of what appear to be random events. This seems like the ultimate state of frustration for me--but let the scientists have their way. All I know is that if there is any pattern to what is happening in my household--I'm totally oblivious.

It began after the offer was accepted. I haven't bought a house in 21 years. Yet the endless minutiae of dealing with lending, insurance, and mortgage companies is all coming back to me. The difficult part for me is having people I don't know accessing my private life--poring over my spending habits, income, every monetary resource at my disposal. It feels obscene. Be that as it may, I'm trying to remember it is a means to what hopefully will be a good end--life at Muchmore.

But back to chaos. I can't find my camera. Being the sentimental person I am, I have been carrying it everywhere--my last gig with the big band, farewell dinners with friends. For two days I've been looking for it. I wanted to take pictures of the before and after cleaning my disgusting basement and to record for posterity how my sweet home of 21 years looked. On my trip to visit my youngest sister, I wanted to show my nieces, nephews, and Laura what our house in LaFox looked like. There were very few pictures of how we lived and what we lived with and I was sorry about that. So, I want to make sure to document what life was like on Lexington St. I have only three pictures of the move from Illinois to Wisconsin that I know of. One of us packing up Illinois is ridiculous and typical of the Van Bogaert humor--even Mom is being silly. Another is my 46 year old baby brother at about 5 among the things being packed in my room. The other is a "feeding frenzy" at the "new" house in Wisconsin with the bad pink panelling in the background pre-my mother's redecorating.

I've tracked down the last time I used the camera. It was Monday and I was embarrassing my oldest by making him pose by the UW Marshfield sign and in front of the campus buildings. Since then I don't know what I've done with it.

Though I'd like a new more compact model, mine is perfectly good and I don't want to possess two cameras just because I couldn't keep track of my possessions. Periodically this happens with my keys. I get a glimpse of my future senility when I start imagining my dog, Leinie, involved in evil plots to undermine my mental health by hiding them. Inevitably I find the keys where I absentmindedly left them (once on the roof of the car).

It's almost 7am and the basement beast is waiting. If I must, I will buy a disposable camera. Don't expect to see the basement pictures here. Those are reserved for only the immediate family who had to live with it...

7:15am Found the camera--under the foam mattress pad, in the office, Leinie. Sigh.