I'm not a pack-rat - I'm not a pack-rat...

...I'm not a pack-rat.

Ok. I try really hard not be a pack-rat.

I think some little, hairy gremlin comes in in the night and pokes all this stuff in my closets.

We got exactly two closets and the bathroom cleaned out and packed up yesterday. We had five boxes and two large garbage bags of "keep" stuff. We also had five large garbage bags of "pitch" stuff. Along with a few things that wouldn't fit into a garbage bag. And I left plenty of stuff to work with (towels, washcloths, sheets, bathroom "necessities" and other odds and ends) while we're waiting to move. And those were just storage closets...didn't have the balls to tackle the clothes closets yet. Or the storage area in the basement.

Kill me.

I guess it's like a physics equation or something. The amount of crap you have will expand to fill the available space you have.

It's funny. When I left the ex, I essentially took my clothes and a few small things that were important to me. When I moved to Peoria in 2001, I had a small tv, a plastic table and chairs, an air mattress and a few totes of stuff. My daughter and I moved everything I owned in my car and a two-door SUV.

I really liked not having a buncha crap. I also swore to myself that I'd never possess a buncha crap again.

Mmmmhmmm.

I have no one to blame but myself. Zig just isn't a consumer. He just doesn't buy unnecessary things. It's me. All me.

I am the countess of "If you can't find it, go buy another one." I am the duchess of "That's so cute...I have to have one!" I am the princess of "It was on clearance...so I bought three."

I am the queen of crap.