Sunday, December 27, 2009


I just own way, way, way too much stuff.

I'm cleaning out my room at my parents' for the final time and trying to pack up for Phoenix.  I'd forgotten about most of the stuff I own.  It's a bit like being on an archeological dig.

Hey jeans from high school - ahh, I see that sophomore and junior pants are embarrassingly high-waisted, while senior pants are embarrassing low-riding.   Good to see you again, I hope your time in the drawer has been treating you well.

Hi, AP English papers.  Why did I ever think I would need to refer to you someday?  In the trash you go.

Sheet music!  Wow, if only I were still musical ...

Guh, bar study books ... shove you back under the bed ...

I have three bottles of Febreeze in my room.  Three.  No one needs that much Febreeze.  Let's not even get started on all the half-used bottles of lotion and perfume.  Bleh, I'll just put it all in a box and hope that Echo wants some of it ...

Welcome to the D.I. pile, earrings, shoes, blankets, throw pillows, old Halloween costumes, knick knacks, stuffed animals, CDs, Babysitters Club books, ... MY LITTLE PONIES?!?!?!

Ummm ...

I think it's for the best that you guys come to Phoenix with me.

Just in case.

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