Collections of stuff

So when I decided to take a new job in mid-December, I built in a nice two-week respite for myself. I really needed time after the holiday to come back, tear down the home office, and reorganize. I went through so much stuff. And I'm still going through it. With the closing date for our house likely to be set any day now, I need to start thinking about packing for the move. For a while, I was moving every year: 2005 was the first year since 2002 that I hadn't moved at least to a new local apartment. I anticipate this move being my last for a very long time if things go according to plan.

Cleaning out old papers and things is a bizarre experience, sort of like looking at old snapshots of yourself as a baby. The only difference is that you recognize everything when you're cleaning-- as in why the %&*# have I been keeping this for all these years?! Packing this time will basically be round 2 of the cleanout I did between jobs, which was pretty significant in my opinion: lots of recycling, lots of Freecycling, and lots of sentimentality tossed in the trash. Simply put, I had become a pack rat. And I still can't root out the sentimentality completely. Some stuff I just can't part with, even though it has no value and is essentially just something I'll keep carting around in a box until I'm finally able to say goodbye. And that day may never come.

Conversely, the owner's manual to that toaster oven that died more than five years ago is definitely history, as are informational sheets from Verizon for a phone number that was assigned to me but was never hooked up (three moves ago!!). Why do I keep this stuff? I've discovered that I no longer want to live this way. From now on, everything that comes through the door will be looked at with a discriminating eye. If it looks useful enough to save, then I'll save it if I have a place for it. Otherwise, it goes to Freecycle, the recycling bin, or the trash, in that order. Some poor person will have to clear all of this stuff out someday, and I'd prefer not to have them standing there marveling over the uselessness of my personal effects. What will they say about that bizarre group of half a dozen boxes from the last move whose tape has remained intact and undisturbed for nearly two years? The same thing I'm saying now: Why did she keep moving with this stuff that she never used?

Running
It's been almost a year since my accident on the ice last February. I'm running about 3.5 miles on the treadmill every other day, and things seem pretty much okay. My knee definitely feels different, but I'm hopeful that these (and more) easy miles are building up rather than tearing down. I can't emphasize enough now good it feels to be running any mileage at all. When something important is restored to your life, you really get to appreciate it all over again. And boy, am I ever.