This week I have dug out the years of my life, read literally, years layer-upon-layer in my drawers and either trashed them or moved them or updated their formats. Happy Birthday week to me.
Guess when a gal turns 30, she needs make room to live some more...
- took every floppy disk I had (dated 1995-2003) and moved them file-by-file onto my jump drive
- saved and said goodbye to correspondence that I'd "saved" (hoarded) in the top drawer
- held onto my U of M blue paw sticker stash
- found several rolls of film and marveled...just sat there and marveled
- gagged at the hard-as-jade Twizzlers I found--unwrapped!
- pulled out a giant Bible after about 20 minutes of removing what was on top of it (oh the depths of this desk!)
- smiled at the emergency blanket that Apryl gave me for graduation; I saved it and then I saved it
- I found 2 tennis bracelets--one ruby and one sapphire (what the heck?!)
So, now there's a new desk, and some new space. As usual, the pumice stone of letting go of stuff, even mementos, reminds me that I'm dust. What I possess and hold onto is dust. And a lot of it is also dusty. Dusty dust.
And I broke my middle toe this morning.
