Packing is never fun. You know it, I know it, there’s no point in pretending. Not only is there the physical effort of moving ones crap from one box to another, but you have to deal with the emotional side too.
Remember, just because it cost you a fortune only to end up forgotten in a closet, doesn’t mean it’s a reflection on your character. That said, I really have no excuse for the orange-slice shaped scented candles I found in my closet. Or the four brass candle sticks hidden in a cupboard.
I don’t even remember buying half this shit.
A few empty liquor bottles, and some disturbing beer cans with a funky smell were discovered in the back of an old closet. And an ancient pack of unfiltered camels made an appearance from a small shelf, tucked inside an even older shoe (possibly dates from when I was underage to smoke? But I wouldn’t have had to hide them! Meh, a mystery for the ages). Two condoms appeared amidst a bunch of old papers… but as there are few things are worse than old, dry condom sex… they were pitched.
In short, I’ve been wallowing in mountains of the cheap incarnations of my paychecks for the past couple of hours. I did find some more air rifle ammunition. But on the whole, I have simply reaffirmed that my money is best spent on consumables. Those old bottles of 151? Do they try and guilt trip me like those scented candles? No. They don’t.
In fact, I can’t even remember those nights. Probably because they were just to epic.
Up yours, responsible spending, take a Debtski, and run it up your wallet.