True Confessions.... Downsizing

Christmas was good last year. The boys, 23 & 21, were great. They actually remained in an upright position for extended periods of time and even spoke. For the uninitiated, the default here is always the horizontal position and vocabulary is limited to “Duh,” “nowhere,” and “sure.” Yes by the way, this position can even be maintained on a piano stool. I was feeling especially prosperous and gave my wife a new Filson strap vest, the SA waterproof fly box with removable inserts, and a neat bunch of nymphs. The logic being simplify, downsize. Time passes.

 It is now April, opening day for trout has past, and after many gentle but persistent reminders, the moment of truth is about to arrive. This “moment” consists of the switchover of flies to the new box and gear to the new vest. The Saturday before our annual pilgrimage to Potter County, the games begin in earnest. Stage One should be easy. Remove the contents from the old fly boxes and place them into the new one. Understand, this new SA box is about 7-3/4” X 4-1/2” and depending on the inserts you select, can hold over 300 flies without even a hiccup.

10:00 AM and the table is covered with boxes and flies. 11:30 AM and there is mumbling and the mention of wine. It’s only 11:30, I must have misunderstood.  “Honey? Are you okay? Everything all right?” After twenty-six years of marriage I now know to finally listen to that little voice when it says go shop for car wax. I leave and return two hours later to find the scenery on the table has remained but been rearranged. There is also a large, half empty bottle of Chardonnay. Realizing the car wax routine cannot be used more than once a day, I face the demon head on and ask how it’s going. To this very day I swear I heard a hiss before she spoke. She explained this was far more complicated than I was capable of understanding.

One needed to identify each of the flies by name, size, type and function. She also explained this becomes difficult when you have over twelve years of accumulated “things” which have their origins from Pa to Branson Mo. I chuckled and reminded her some of these “things” don’t have names and that she bought them because they were cute. Yes I know and before you say it, I really did wish I could take those words back. 4:00 PM and I now realize this is a matter which transcends jewelry, clothes, even shoes. 5:00 PM and I make dinner. One person in the house is not hungry. 7:30 PM, her eyes are closing and the bottle of wine is almost empty. Sensing weakness, I propose a plan. Wets, dries, similar looks and then by size. She’s too weak to fight it. It’s done. The SA and an extra box for streamers.

 Sunday begins at 8:00 AM and someone has a headache. Hmmmm. The good/bad news is it’s Sunday and we have no wine. Church is mentioned and I am presented with the logic of “the closest distance between two points,” AKA prayer, is just as good. Okay... There is a lot of pacing. By 9:30 the old vest is brought out and emptied. Our family room is 16’ by 34’ and all of it is utilized. The contents of her vest are formidable. I see things I remember and smile. I see things I don’t remember and some things I still can’t identify. No less than five flashlights, two thermometers and seven spools of 4X tippet are revealed. 

I remain silent however as I already have eight cans of car wax. The Filson is a great vest. Two large pockets along with 6 smaller external ones and four internal ones. What sets it apart is the double back pack sections and it is a strap vest. This is NOT the 438 pocket Orvis vest she is used too. I offer encouragement by saying she has eliminated 4 fly boxes, and suggest only one flashlight, thermometer and so on. Once again there is the mention of wine. 2:30 and the pockets are bulging!

 There is still 6 square feet of “things” on the floor and that’s not counting the net, wading staff, water bottle and rain gear. She tries the vest on in front of a mirror, returns to the room, empties the new vest and within 10 minutes, has the old Orvis re-packed. “Here! You like it so #@$#% much, you try it.” She leaves to go across the street and tells me she is going to celebrate the re-birth or her old vest. I guess they have wine.

 It is now 7:00 PM Thursday night and I have my old fly boxes out and the contents of my old vest on the floor. There is a bottle of scotch on the table and she has informed me she has to go out to look for shower curtain rings. Funny… I swore we had extras already. Wish me luck.