TIM BELFORD

A moving tale

Like about a third of the province I'm planning on moving this weekend.

It started out as a simple affair.

After the CBC decided to relocate our offices, I decided that a twenty-five minute walk at 4:30 a.m., in the dead of winter, went beyond a good stretch of the legs.

So here I am, once again, packing.

Which brings me to the lock.

You see, I found a lock in my desk drawer. No key. Just a lock.

Well, I shouldn't say no key. I actually found a key. It just didn't fit this particular lock.

As a matter of fact, it didn't fit any lock in the apartment.

So there I was, with a key and a lock -- neither of which was of any use to anyone.

I also found a nose whistle, a kazoo with no membrane, a bosun's pipe, a business card from a cardboard box salesman, and an empty tin of Fisherman's Friend cough drops.

Why I had saved any of the aforementioned objects escapes me now.

But that's what moving and packing is all about.

It's a necessary re-ordering of one's life.

There's no secret why bears choose different dens each winter or why birds build a new nest in the spring.

It's simply to avoid amassing keys without locks or the animal version of the same.

The more I got into it, the more I found.

Twelve years of Eaton's bills, two feet of moulding, a broken pencil sharpener, a sweater that - judging from its size - I must of had when I was eight, and a cloth bag from Zellers.

I also found a piece of paper with a phone number and the cryptic note, "phone before five."

I was tempted to dial the number to find out who it was. I was also afraid that I hadn't phoned and it might have been important.

The kitchen was a veritable treasure trove.

I hadn't realized I owned an empty crock of Fireman's Mustard from Pommery in France.

Nor did I realize I had at least one plate from three different sets of flatware.

I also have a lemon zester that from the feel of it couldn't scrape dew off a daisy.

And a lid that obviously fits a pot long lost in the mists of time.

I suppose I should just consign it all to the nearest dumpster.

But then again, you can never tell when the right key might turn up.