I seem to remember doing this just six months ago. Oh, THAT'S RIGHT, because I DID just do this six months ago.
It's time to pack up my life, store it in boxes and move. Again. Sort of. Seeing as though I don't have a permanent residence come November, and possibly into December, and I will be backpacking through town, knocking on the doors of strangers, begging them to let me into their homes, I have to pack up my stuff. And store it.
OK, I'm being dramatic. I DO have a place to crash for the month. Ish. A couple places, if necessary. But I still need to pack up my stuff because, well, it can't come with me. My life must sit in (several) boxes and wait for me in the basement of my soon-to-be newlywed pals. And I hear that basement is the home to bugs and stuff. And possibly a one-armed axe murderer. I'm just sayin.'
Anyhow, the preparedness has begun. And by preparedness, I mean, I'm throwing away any and every thing I haven't touched in the past six months. I've lost all sentiment. Nothing has value in my apartment. Except The Cats, and you know, a few other things. Like, my DVD player.
I gutted out a crap-tastic filing cabinet. These old credit card statements? Trash. Where'd these two disposable cameras come from, and what pictures did I take? Too bad, thrown out. That old, uh, teddy bear that has absolutely no soul or value to me whatsoever? Bye-bye. Old blanket? Gone. Computer disks? Eh, I don't even have a disk drive. Picture frame? Gone. Printer paper? Um, no printer ink. Goodbye. Newspaper clippings from my old high school newspaper? Doubt they can get my a job. Trash. Hell, I just threw away the entire filing cabinet. Seriously.
And that old foot spa? I think it was a Valentine's Day gift once. Seeee ya. Crappy dishware I stole from an ex? Garbage (in my defense, hi, he has my grill. And stereo). Ugly "love" necklace that once got thrown across the backyard in a fit of rage? Trash. Books I will never read? Byeee. Stapler, pencil sharpener, ruler, binders, notebooks? Bye, bye, bye, bye, bye.
Before this week ends, I plan to have my computer desk gone (for money, of course), and I hope to have another car load of crap thrown into a Dumpster. Damn, it feels good to move. I get lighter every time. I hold onto junk too long. By the time I start a new life with The Fiance, I'll literally be starting a new life. I will have nothing left. OK, that's a mild exaggeration, but I don't mind. It feels good to rid myself of useless belongings. Baggage. Old life.
If moving is good for anything, it's for preparing for a fresh, happy start.