For the past couple days, I’ve been helping my friend Trish pack up her stuff. She moves into a new apartment on Tuesday with some of the new friends she’s replaced me with here in Madison. Okay so obviously I’m irreplaceable, but she is moving in with two new roommates after living on her own for a year, which means that throughout the packing process we’ve been trying to figure what stuff we can throw away or donate. It’s interesting how we as humans can attach so much meaning to inanimate objects. I know this very well, because I’m literally the worst with it. I can attach sentimentality to almost anything. Recently, I looked through my keepsake box and there were several items in there that I literally had no idea what they were or why I decided to keep them.
Today we went through Trisha’s closet and my job was to try and get her to donate as many things as possible. I think I did a pretty good job at making her look at things objectively and get rid of whatever she hadn’t worn in years. But if it was me, I know I definitely wouldn’t have down as good of a job. I still have t-shirts in my drawers from eighth grade because how can you get rid of something with a memory attached to it? Even though I know that all of the stuff I have is not what’s actually important, and that if I had to survive without it I definitely could, it still doesn’t make it any easier for me to actually throw stuff out.
So basically moral of this story is that I’m a huge hypocrite who made Trish get rid of half her possessions while I still own every Disney movie on VHS. Who knows they could totally make a comeback, right?