Boxes

My life is filled with boxes.  Banker sized places to put things that I forget about for months at a time.  I go through them, individually, grudgingly.  It’s so much work to slough off bits and pieces of your life that were important at one point.  There are receipts from years ago, archives of purchases that are long gone, either digested or donated to charity.

There are outdated pieces of technology, joysticks that no longer have supported interfaces or computer components that are no longer functioning.  Why they are around is a mystery, but I’m slowly solving it.  There are DVDs, stacks and piles of them, bought before the digital availability of them negated their usefulness.  And then there is the not easily classified, “stuff.”

Bits and pieces that were important at some point but have lost their usefulness as I have moved on, but their singular purpose has not.

Wall mountable speaker stands, cargo pants, reference books for car repair, bluetooth headsets that take batteries, persistence of vision messagers and of course, unrecognizable power adapters.  There are always power adapters.

There’s always a fear of course, fear that I’ll need them, but in the six years that I’ve lived here, they have taken space and given nothing back.  So it’s time to just get rid of them.