My Ideal Job: JurisFICTION
I've always thought that the weirdest thing about summer is the fact that all the days seem to run together--I'm generally aware of whether it's a weekday or a weekend, but if you ask me what day of the week it currently is, or what the number of the day is, good luck getting a correct answer. Also, questions like, "When did we make this pasta?" I can't answer at all. Meals and days and nights all run together in one big mush of summertime. But it's not the fun kind of summertime of childhood.
Been doing a lot of cleaning recently. There's the usual chores around the house that I do for Mom, like vacuuming and dusting, but I've also been going through my two rooms of stuff. Today I took an entire carload of stuff to the Salvation Army, and I already have MORE stuff piling up from the cleaning/purging/organizing I've done today. It really almost makes me nauseous, all the stuff I have. I actually feel bad when I drop it off at the Salvation Army--what do the people there think of me? I must seem like a spoiled white girl. I've always gotten more than my fair share, and that makes me feel...guilty, I guess. And I guess donating it does mean something, but there's so much of it I could have donated years ago. A bunch of toys that I was just holding on to for sentimental reasons--I wasn't playing with them, but I was too attached to let anyone else have them. It's so selfish of me. And even though I've taken a lot of things to be donated already, I wager I'll have to make one or two more trips before it's done to my satisfaction. At least I've finally gotten my closet pared down to the clothes I actually wear. And I must admit it's been much easier to do all this getting rid of stuff without Mom hanging over my shoulder, trying to make me keep things. And there's still a fair amount I'm keeping because she said I should--some clothes from when I was little, and a couple "collector" Barbies that I've stuck in a drawer and I'm sure she'll never remember or mention again. I've been doing most of the work during the workday though, so she can't veto much.
On one hand it's kind of sad to be giving up most of my childhood. Most of the stuffed animals I had left are gone now (but don't worry, I still have...like...15), and my last few Barbies are gone too. The only real toy that I'm holding onto is my dollhouse--I've had it forever, and I can't bring myself to give it up yet. I'll either use it again if I have children, or Mom will get rid of it at some point. Actually what takes up most of the room now is books and all the crap that goes to college with me. All of my stuff fills two rooms, plus a large bathroom. I'm spoiled and I have too much stuff, and I don't like it. But giving it all up is strangely difficult. Most of my childhood stuff will be gone, which only further fulfills the idea that I'm almost an independent person. I feel simultaneously rushed and lagging behind. -Ink
Been doing a lot of cleaning recently. There's the usual chores around the house that I do for Mom, like vacuuming and dusting, but I've also been going through my two rooms of stuff. Today I took an entire carload of stuff to the Salvation Army, and I already have MORE stuff piling up from the cleaning/purging/organizing I've done today. It really almost makes me nauseous, all the stuff I have. I actually feel bad when I drop it off at the Salvation Army--what do the people there think of me? I must seem like a spoiled white girl. I've always gotten more than my fair share, and that makes me feel...guilty, I guess. And I guess donating it does mean something, but there's so much of it I could have donated years ago. A bunch of toys that I was just holding on to for sentimental reasons--I wasn't playing with them, but I was too attached to let anyone else have them. It's so selfish of me. And even though I've taken a lot of things to be donated already, I wager I'll have to make one or two more trips before it's done to my satisfaction. At least I've finally gotten my closet pared down to the clothes I actually wear. And I must admit it's been much easier to do all this getting rid of stuff without Mom hanging over my shoulder, trying to make me keep things. And there's still a fair amount I'm keeping because she said I should--some clothes from when I was little, and a couple "collector" Barbies that I've stuck in a drawer and I'm sure she'll never remember or mention again. I've been doing most of the work during the workday though, so she can't veto much.
On one hand it's kind of sad to be giving up most of my childhood. Most of the stuffed animals I had left are gone now (but don't worry, I still have...like...15), and my last few Barbies are gone too. The only real toy that I'm holding onto is my dollhouse--I've had it forever, and I can't bring myself to give it up yet. I'll either use it again if I have children, or Mom will get rid of it at some point. Actually what takes up most of the room now is books and all the crap that goes to college with me. All of my stuff fills two rooms, plus a large bathroom. I'm spoiled and I have too much stuff, and I don't like it. But giving it all up is strangely difficult. Most of my childhood stuff will be gone, which only further fulfills the idea that I'm almost an independent person. I feel simultaneously rushed and lagging behind. -Ink