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It's amazing how much junk a person can accumulate in 18 years. Actually, make that 13, because the specific junk wouldn't have come with us from New York, and I definitely didn't start collecting this mess before the age of 6.

In the back of my room I have an old Playschool desk, one of those plastic, primary colored monsters that double as toyboxes. Usually, the thing is covered in the Lego models I've built, both from kits and the stuff I've designed, but the interior of the box was also storage for some of my stuff when I was in early elementary school before I was old enough for the little blocks. As part of my college prep, I was going to empty the thing out, in addition to weeding my bookshelves and other such chores,

So I did. Two hours and two trashbags later I had the thing emptied, but it was quite the experience. It's amazing the stuff in the box. Bits of wood, broken crayons, oddly-shaped beads, old store-bought Valentines, and random pieces of paper all jumbled together. Plus a handful of fake feathers, which had, in the 10-odd years they'd been there, come unglued, so I hade to vacuum up the bits of pink and green fluff before I could close the box back up and put the Legos back. The only things I kept were the bits of a 3D puzzle of Big Ben (which is missing pieces, so it'll probably go, too), a baseball, a handful of pens that still might work, and a bit of pink yarn with maybe half a dozen yellow plastic keys on it. Dunno why I'm keeping them now, especially the keys, but it's probably the same reason I kept them in the first place: I collect interesting bits of stuff. The scraps of fabric and odd beads I have in little piles around the room are a pretty good indicator that this habit hasn't changed.

Don't know what any of it means, really. But I move onto the first of three bookshelves tomorrow. *shrug*



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