Yesterday and today, I have embarked upon the monotonous and gargantuan task of shredding box upon box of old receipts, bank statements, invoices, pay stubs, and old bills ranging from power to the athletic club that I used to be a member of. It's like an odd trip down memory lane spanning four years and sometimes beyond, cards from Kristina when we were just dating, pictures of my family, young pictures of me on driver's licenses and permits, old video rental cards and my coveted rejection letter from Big Idea (I applied for a job there out of college).
All in all, I can't believe the amount of junk that I held onto thinking that one day I would revisit everything for some reason that is now beyond me. In the midst of shredding the fifth box, the shredder has seized, obviously burdened with the single sheet of paper that I placed in it, effectively saying, "no more, I need a break!" I still have one more shoebox to go, and I still haven't touched the three giant cardboard boxes in my closet with random artwork from art school and various nick-nacks from an era when I obviously had money to waste on such frivolous things such as nick-nacks.
I can't help but think about what I else in different areas of my life that I have put into a cardboard box thinking that perhaps one day I would revisit it. Thank God for the notion to want to move into a new apartment, because it has given me motivation to exorcise the pack rat demon that has plagued me since moving out on my own.
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