Sweet sixteen.

First, good news -- we have another showing tomorrow! I was starting to get paranoid about not having anything lined up yet this week. Come on jerks, buy our house! :) Anyway, to prepare, in addition to all the candles I have lit around the house, I experimented with a new scent -- simmering cinnamon (a tip from my neighbor's girlfriend [yes, the crazy neighbors! She came over and talked to me this weekend and says her boyfriend's mom, the owner, doesn't weed her crap ass yard because she is "environmental." So that obviously explains the ac on from April through November and the generator!]). It smelled reaaaaally good, so I will definitely do this again tomorrow before the peeps come.

"Buy This House" scent.

So my project for the evening was to try to consolidate my boxes of personal stuff -- letters, school papers, mementos, etc.

The round hat boxes contain every letter, card, note, etc., I've received since I was 10.
I can't bear to part with them.

As you can probably guess, "work time" really became "reminisce" time, and not much got purged (although, to my credit, I've been through all this stuff before and it's probably as slim as it's going to get).

For Rachel... Systems theory! Self-efficacy! Nexus!

Here's what I managed to purge:

HA!

The find of the night is by far my elementary school diary, which averaged about an entry per year from 2nd through 5th grade, heavy on the 4th grade. My handwriting hasn't much improved.

And so it begins! From:



Classic.



Why yes, that does say "peice [sic] of crap on rye."
(And yes, that does say "Tim's a babe." Double HA!)

Sigh. Worded only as a fourth grader could do.

I still miss my Brad like crazy, but I must confess I was pretty wrapped up in all this tonight. It's so funny how easily you can be back in your 16-year-old bedroom in your 16-year-old body thinking through your 16-year-old head. Nope, definitely not purging this stuff. It will be with us for at least one more move.