Halloween of Ages Past
I hate moving.
I'm in the midst of packing up my stuff to take a load of it back to my parents' place tomorrow. This actually means that I'm currently kneeling (becsuse my chair is covered in stuff) in a pile of garbage/clean laundry I haven't folded yet/dirtylaundry that can't go in the hamper because it still has clean laundry in it/textbooks/other books/random papers/ boxes/and anything else random that could possibly be in this room.
What a mess.
This is (partly) why I hate moving. I find all this random crap that I don't currently have a use for but maybe, just maybe, I will need sometime in the future and therefore cannot just throw out. (Although I have thrown out a TON of stuff already tonight.)
Plus there's all my crafting stuff... oh wow is Todd going to get a shock when we move in together. I don't think he actually realizes how much STUFF I have. I shock myself every time I move.
One good thing - I found some old sticky candy that still tasted very good. Mmmmm.
I'm in the midst of packing up my stuff to take a load of it back to my parents' place tomorrow. This actually means that I'm currently kneeling (becsuse my chair is covered in stuff) in a pile of garbage/clean laundry I haven't folded yet/dirtylaundry that can't go in the hamper because it still has clean laundry in it/textbooks/other books/random papers/ boxes/and anything else random that could possibly be in this room.
What a mess.
This is (partly) why I hate moving. I find all this random crap that I don't currently have a use for but maybe, just maybe, I will need sometime in the future and therefore cannot just throw out. (Although I have thrown out a TON of stuff already tonight.)
Plus there's all my crafting stuff... oh wow is Todd going to get a shock when we move in together. I don't think he actually realizes how much STUFF I have. I shock myself every time I move.
One good thing - I found some old sticky candy that still tasted very good. Mmmmm.
I'm a packrat too! I get it from my dad.
Funny story: a couple months ago, the faucet in the kitchen (at my house back home) broke. My dad told my mom he had another one so he installed it. Then, he showed her the receipt from the new faucet.
It was from 1985!
My dad had kept that faucet for 20 years because he thought that maybe one day he might get a chance to use it. Since 1985, we've moved twice and he's still carried it around (and known where he left it).
Pfff... and he gets mad at me cuz he thinks I have too much junk.
Is there a moral to this story? I don't know...
Posted by
JeN |
4:14 PM, April 12, 2005