In search of a few good moving boxes

My son and daughter-inlaw are buying a house in our neighborhood, which is a dream come true for my husband and me.

More importantly, if all goes as planned, it means they are moving our 14-month-old granddaughter almost around the corner, just a few streets from where her daddy grew up from the time he was in the fifth grade.

I have two jobs in this homebuying transaction — cleaning and the acquisition of packing boxes. I take both seriously.

Finding boxes has become an obsession.

Before my son and DIL made their decision, a co-worker of mine bought a house. When I saw free boxes posted by a Facebook friend whose mother had moved to a smaller home, I drove to the address immediately and picked up for my co-worker as many boxes as I could cram into my vehicle.

They were good boxes — many of them advertising liquor brands. I do not think this elderly woman emptied them of their original content. Her daughter said her mother sought out these boxes because of their high quality.

I gave the boxes to my co-worker, who had been scrounging for boxes, and she was appreciative. That night, my son and daughter-in-law made an offer on their new house. Someone made an offer on their pretty home the day it was listed.

Now, everywhere I go, I’m looking for boxes. Of course you can buy boxes, but that’s no fun.

My co-worker is probably going to be moved in before my son and DIL move and will donate the boxes, but they’re ready to start packing, so I started looking for more.

My son posted an ISO (in search of, for those of you not familiar with it) free boxes on Facebook. He also went to his former place of employment and got a few boxes.

I have moved only three times in my life, and I have a lot of stuff. It took boxes and boxes and boxes. A few are still packed in my attic, I’m sure, after 17 years in the same house.

My son came over and started eyeing boxes in my garage and lifting to see if they were full, which they are.

A few days ago, I saw my same Facebook friend had posted she had a few more free boxes, smaller than before. “Must take all,” she said.

I literally jumped up from my desk as if I’d been shot out of a cannon, ran and got my car to go get them. I had to redeem myself for giving away all the other boxes.

I drove a little fast, and it crossed my mind that a cop might pull me over. I wondered what the reaction would be when I told the officer I was in a hurry to be first to get some empty boxes. Not good, I imagine.

I was there in four minutes. The boxes were not the good liquor-store variety — a couple were box-fan boxes, and some were small. Others were oddly shaped. I considered not taking all of them, despite the comment. I’m not sure what retaliation my friend was planning if a box or two were left on the driveway. The blue recycling container was on the curb, too, so I could have crammed the unwanted boxes in there.

But I took them all and sped off.

It dawned on me that I might find other boxes in this neighborhood because it was recycling day. I drove through slowly, trolling. Unfortunately, the recycling truck had already come. I guess my friend’s boxes were placed outside afterward.

On my way back to work, I saw a UPS truck. I decided I might have gone a little overboard when I thought about following it and asking homeowners to give me their Amazon boxes after they opened them.

I went back to the office with my stash.

My son also said he needed old newspapers to wrap stuff for packing. Lucky for him, I know where to find plenty of those.