As I mentioned in my last post, The Man and I are endeavoring to move south. Part of the moving process has been the cleaning out of our current house. It's been a real eye-opening experience.
Apparently, I am a scary hoarder person.
My house has a lot of closet space—like, just an insane amount of storage. In the fifteen years I've been in this house, I've managed to fill it all. Here are some of the many, many things that have been discovered thus far:
—Five boxes of magazines. And not little boxes either.
—A surprising amount of pie plates. Especially considering that I've never made a pie.
—A surprising amount of skeeballs for someone who doesn't own a skeeball machine. Ah, misspent youth.
—A box of Beanie Babies. Including the "ultra-rare" Princess Diana Beanie Baby. Because apparently, there was such a thing, and I just had to have it.
—A kick-ass collection of Absolut Vodka ads. It was a college thing. And kind of a now thing.
And then there are the books. Books, books, books. Oh. My. Goodness. I have a lot of books. I mean, it's not like I wasn't already aware of that fact. It's just that going through the the process of sorting and packing has really driven that point home. I have a lot of books.
I've gone through a lot of them so far, and limited myself to keeping one hardcover and one paperback version of each book. Any extras—and there are several books which fall into that category—will be and have been donated to my local library. I'm not sure what they'll do with three copies of The Mists of Avalon. but they'll think of something, I'm sure.
Thus far, I have literally packed twenty-five boxes of books. And I still have shelves I haven't even touched yet.
The running joke in my family is that I'll need two moving trucks to get me to my new home (wherever that might be). One for my books, one for everything else.
I really hope they're not right. That could be embarrassing.
That's going to do it for me today...I'm off to the day job. Have a great day, all.