Moving
So here we are at my condo, packing up junk so that when people com over to see the place, they aren't totally disgusted at the squalour I live in, seriously. I have inherited a bad habit of not throwing anything out. I have old bank statements from 2 years ago, which is interesting because I've only been living in this condo for a year and a half. I can't stop buying clothes, so I now have a wardrobe to dress a small nation. I have shoes that I haven't worn in 3 years but I can't bring myself to get rid of them. I think I have a problem. Mor agrees with me. Is there a 12 step program that exists? Pack Rats Annonymous? If there isn't one, I think we should start one up. I, PRi, president and founder of PRA do hereby announce a junk movement. Whatever you have not touched for 6 months *fpht* out the door. I am currently, with help from Mor, engaging in my own junk movement. I encourage you all to do your own junk movement and get rid of all the baggage that is weighing you down. I have recently gotten rid of some metaphorical baggage in form of a non-dating slump (and what a slump!). Geez, it feels great to get rid of that and move on. I almost had to repeat to myself over and over and over "PRi, you're not ugly, and you'd make a great girlfriend one day" Well, maybe not to that point, cuz that makes me sound really sad. I'm not that much of a nut case. Uh, actually....ANYWAYS! So back to work! (and the Top Gun documentary is over. Stupid attraction to egotistical pretty boys.)
There are bank statements calling me. *fpht*
posted by MorPRi @ 7:46 PM
1 Comments:
I feel that, as your friend, I must warn you about the flip side of being a pack rat: the purge addiction. You see, when I was 13, I went through all the crap that had accumulated in my bedroom since I'd moved in at the age of eight. My rules were that if I hadn't seen it in three months and it wasn't seasonal or strongly sentimental, I got rid of it. Ever since, I have lived a ridiculously streamlined life. People who enter my bedroom and see my enthusiastic use of Ikea KASSETT boxes never seem to be able to look me in the eye again. The only way I cope is to keep all of my efficient, meticulously focused possessions all over the place. Nobody can guess that you know exactly what you own and exactly why you own it if you can never find it. Call it the best of both worlds.
(Wow, I did that with a straight face. Wait... Damn!)
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