I never meant to make you cry, so now,

I had a walk in closet. Had. When I first moved into my apartment, I could set foot inside the closet. Now, I just have a wall of boxes.

Banker’s boxes, to be exact. Some are labeled, most aren’t. I have a vague idea of what’s in each one only because I put the box there in the first place.

I can’t recall packing any one of them, though. I think that any time I “cleaned” my apartment, I merely shoved everything into a box, slapped a vague sort of label on it, (“C6?”) and then put it into the closet. While convenient, I don’t think that it accomplished anything other than postpone real, honest to goodness cleaning for another day.

After a quick estimation, it looks like I have about 3 or so, uh, months of solid cleaning and sorting to do.