busy*thwumps them on bed*
*puts Flogging Molly, "I'm blogging this", etc. shirts back in drawer*
*looks at rest of pile*
Conversation with self:
"Ooooh, I can't get rid of that."
"Why the hell not? You haven't worn it in years."
"But but see nostalgia. I remember this one time I was wearing that shirt and..."
"When?"
"Huh?"
"When were you wearing that shirt?"
"Um. ...1996?"
"Shirt goes."
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
I have finished the dresser (six drawers), and am moving on to the closet after a well-deserved snack. The stuff hasn't actually made it into the trash bag yet, but it may fill one to the top...
I am a packrat by nature. Don't *wanna* get rid of stuff. I might need that one day! Like the glass jars and pill bottles. That I already threw out last week. *twitch*
I am being a good girl. Yes. I deserve, I don't know, something good. This is hard.