In a Box

We lived in Fairmont long enough that I forgot what it's like to move. For example: everything you own goes in a box. And when you move into your new space your things are still in boxes until YOU take them out. Once you have the majority of your things put somewhat where you want them, the unimportant things or the things you don't need 'This Instant' stay in a box. If they are anything like my boxes, they get shoved sort of neatly somewhere away. Or put in a storage room. Or in a place that I walk past all the time; this of course is on purpose so that I see it and finish taking stuff out of the box. I do see it and think, "Oooh, I need to do that." And that's about as far as it goes.
Josh loves to come and ask me where things are. He says I have a radar for finding things. Since we moved, the answer to "where....?" is "In a box". Now when he comes and asks, before I can answer he says, "Let me guess, 'in a box.'" Or he'll role his eyes and give me a look that says, "Don't say anything". I really haven't minded since my destiny in life is not to be The Finder of All Things Lost by Josh (which probably is almost everything); but now I can't find the cord I need to get pictures off my digital camera. I would ask Josh where it is, but I packed everything, so that doesn't help. And I could ask myself, but I would probably say, "In a Box."