Today I have sorted three and a half large plastic tubs that were in storage and have donated a third, thrown away a third, and sorted the remainder into art supplies, clothes to keep, and doll stuff. I still have one bin left to sort, which is mostly full of old clothing (most will be too small for me now, like high school clothes), and had my childhood quilt, and some doll stuff on top. Also my doll-scaled Christmas tree.
I have a ways to go, but the end is in sight. I
have put my doll boxes into larger boxes for the moving truck but will
probably remove those from the large boxes when we load them into Mom's
truck at Osaka's family farm in Tennessee.
I need to ask the
cubic feet of the bed of the truck so that Osaka and I can practice
tetrising the boxes and bins and figure out what if anything I could
leave behind to be mailed to me later. The main goal is to get rid of
ANYTHING that I will not use, and to make sure everything is sorted in a
way that makes sense so that unpacking will be easy when we get back to
When I get to Texas I will need bookshelves, a desk, a
dresser, and some other basic furniture pieces. I am not taking any
furniture with me, just clothes, dolls, doll stuff (clothing and
furniture), some art, books, and my gaming stuff (consoles etc).
of the unforeseen difficulties of sorting through these bins, is that
many of them were thrown together when Nick kicked me out in 2007 or
2008, and much of it went straight to our climate controlled storage
unit when I bought my bed. So, I'm sorting through tangible memories,
one item at a time. Some of the items are easy to donate, and others I'm
having to set aside and let my heart breathe before I make a decision.
I'm not a hoarder like Dad, but the few items I do still own, have quite
a bit of meaning to me.
It's strange to be going through the
childhood memories of someone else. This person functionally ceased to
exist when I was twenty-eight, and officially in my early thirties.
There are no childhood memories, photographs, letters, cards, etc for
Rory. These are still my belongings but many of them have another name
lovingly written all over them.
It feels rather like sorting
through the possessions of a well loved family member who has passed
away. Looking through these boxes and bins is weird and hard but very
I can look around the apartment now and see the end in sight. I have a bit left to do, but I am nearing the end.