Chaos and nostalgia and an allergy nightmare
I knew it was going to come to this... one day. I could deny it all I want, stuff away stuff in storage, but, you can't get rid of it until you actually do. About three weeks back my brother came to visit. He was driving into Tulsa from my parents home that is the middle of nowhere Oklahoma. He said he had some of my stuff and I was a little overwhelmed at the thought of getting some items back.
Overwhelmed didn't begin to cover it when he brought nine large plastic tubs [seen above when I first began this sorting process] of stuff I left behind when the mutual disownment between me and my parents occurred. I sorted through the mold infested boxes pulling out precious photos, stuffed animals, and old schoolwork. These items are priceless to me and one day I will have to put them in some kind of scrapbook. That's some ways away though. The daunting task before me is to sort through everything, donate what is salvageable, throw away what is covered in mold (and there is a LOT), and safely store away anything else I find of value.
I would rather just throw these tubs into the garage storage and forget about them. However, I realize that that maneuver wouldn't really solve the problem. I hate, hate sorting through stuff, much less stuff from a life I left behind, but, if I don't do it now it'll sit there, getting grosser, and in the end it'll need to be done one way or another. It will be emotional, but, hopefully it'll be a good catharsis too.
My upcoming weekend is dedicated to sorting, organizing, and hopefully getting rid of the all this stuff that is taking up space. If this sounds like I'm trying to pump myself up about this, you're totally right. I'm also hoping that maybe Jon will be inspired to go through his 15 year old t-shirts and donate them. That maybe stretching it though. If you don't hear from me in a couple of weeks though assume the stuff got the better of me and we had to call the producers of "Hoarding Buried Alive" to stage an intervention.