throw away your television

I truly have a horrifying amount of personal possessions. This problem was brought sharply into focus today when my shipment from India arrived--and the bill of lading stated that the weight of the shipment was 326 pounds. I shudder to think how much that must have cost. This is yet another example of how having free storage/shipping has resulted in an explosion of property--from the summer after sophomore year 'til the summer after senior year, I had virtually unlimited, free staff storage on campus, which means that I never had to throw anything out.

Now, I have boxes stacked on boxes, with multiple rubbermaid tubs to protect clothes from high school that I no longer wear (since I'm trying to look all professional at work), and more shoes than will fit on my fully-expanded double shoerack even though I only wear my Adidas and my hot-pink Kangaroos. I have dozens of books that I've never gotten around to reading, a giant stuffed catfish that I have perhaps matured beyond, a megasized supersoaker, an antfarm that I never set up (but it was a gift, so how could I possible get rid of it?), a whole box full of grass skirts and plastic leis from junior year in-house draw, and another box full of costume objects that are rather unnecessary. Then we move to the kitchen, where I have casserole dishes, two bundt pans (most people don't even have one!), a pizza stone, a waffle iron, coffee and espresso machines, a george foreman grill, the biggest microwave I could buy (which I like to call by its given name, the 'genius sensor'), and a whole bunch of red Kitchenaid utensils, bowls, and cooking implements because everything *has* to be 'matching matching', as the Hyderabadi tailors would say. And then I don't even know what's in the storeroom downstairs--and none of that list includes the contents of the six boxes that arrive at my door today.

I have a serious disease that needs to be stopped, or else I will turn into everyone else in my entire family and have entire rooms devoted to storing things that have faded into the distant reaches of my memory (or, as in my younger brother's case, I'll have to buy a whole warehouse in preparation for a lifetime of major acquisitions). I've moved five times since I graduated from college, not counting the six months that I spent in India--and there are things that have stayed in the same boxes during all of those moves, only to be schlepped from one storage closet to another. If I'm going to accommodate and extra 326 pounds of belongings in my already-overcrowded physical and psychological space, some of the old baggage needs to go.

After that rant, you may think that I'm completely spent, but I will still give you a quick run-down. My boxes came today, and so I had to wait for them before going to work--this led to me strolling in around one, just in time to grab a deliciously-fresh salad from the cafe. Eating steak and salad is the perfect antidote to six months of slow poisoning via chicken-and-rice overdose. When I came home, Claude, Terry and I went out for sushi (another great antidote to the aforementioned poisoning), and then stopped at the Creamery because Terry wanted ice cream. I just finished reading a romance novel, which I realize will earn me much condemnation since I should be writing my own, not reading the works of others. You'll have to give me a break--I realize it's been a year since I started writing, but I need to get my life together before I can devote a lot of energy to imagining the overwrought, dramatically-romantic problems of others.

Now it's time to sleep, and to dream of which bedspread I will grace my bed with tomorrow. Goodnight!