wow
Last night I started going through all my stuff in the attic in hopes of paring down the number of boxes I will be putting in the moving truck. I am looking at things and asking myself if I will regret not having it like 30 years from now as mementos (like sea shells from the various beaches I have been to) or things my nieces may find interesting when they get older (Rainbow Bright purse). It seems silly to haul all this stuff 1000 miles to be put in a closet, but…I don’t want to get rid of it and I have no where else to put it.
So, I decided to allow myself 2 big boxes just for “memories”. Each thing that doesn’t make it in to the boxes leaves me with the feeling of having to say goodbye.
Its weird and sad and therapeutic.
