Memories, 25 cents or 5 for a dollar.
August 23rd, 2004I’m moving to California.
I’m leaving everything and everyone I know here and taking almost nothing with me.
A fresh start. That’s what I need. But I look at all the stuff I’ve collected over the 16 years I’ve spent here, and I’m a bit troubled by how easy it seems to part with it all.
Today I bought packing boxes so I can start sifting through everything into a category: To be packed and shipped, to be trashed, to be sold.
Enter the impending garage sale. I can’t imagine I’ll get more than a few hundred dollars for everything. A quarter for an opening-night-flowers vase, or the picture frame Chuck and Tony used to hold my birthday road trip gift certificate that year. A buck or two for the purple light-up Halloween cat I’ve put up in the window for the last few years, or the little drop-leaf table I painted blue for my first apartment for my senior year of college. Everything I pick up has a story, a history. My boyfriend thinks I’m crazy to invest the time and energy a garage sale will inevitably suck from me, but I can’t just toss the evidence of the years I’ve spent here in the trash, as if my whole adult life isn’t worth anything.
Oh well. I can’t get very far with my new boxes today because I forgot to buy tape.
You’re not getting rid of the floating eyeball candles, are you?
Oh, I burned the floating eyeball candles at a festive outdoor concert. See the first few entries of the blog for exciting eyeball candle moments.