I still have to clear up the mess in my new apartment. The big pieces of furniture are where they need to be (e.g. not on the ceiling, in a truck, in someone's else's living room, etc.), but I have entirely too many dishes to wash and put away. And I also have a ton of random crap (mannequin heads, candles, vases, bust of Chopin) which don't seem to belong anywhere just yet.
I'm young, how did I get so much crap?
My younger brother Jonah says that he views being a packrat as a genetic disease, one that we've inherited from our parents; like any other mental illness, we need to work every day at prevention, eliminating triggers for the behavior and so forth. I think he's on to something. I've grown pretty good at chiseling away methodically at my collection of crap, but I could be even more ruthless.
Ugh. I also suffer from this most stigmatic of disorders and I also think I got it from my mom. I hate throwing anything away. I'm forcing myself to slowly go through my things so I can attempt a garage sale sometime before I move again.
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