boxed in

Where did all this paper come from? I find myself nearly pinned down by stacks and stacks of paper. Old bills, investment reports, class notes, work-related stuff... I can't even be more specific than that because the thought of looking at everything is daunting. Slow and steady may win the race, but the paper cuts may just kill me.

I've looked over my bookshelf and don't feel prepared to rid myself of many of the books. Just a handful, really. If you go by the belief that people judge you by your bookshelf, I want them to judge me in a specific way. So I'm going to keep my enormous art- and fashion-related books, my few pop culture references, my architecture-related books. I'm OK with looking vacuous and basic.

But the magazines... I'll need to figure out what to do with those.

What surprises and pleases me is that friends have volunteered to help with the packing. One friend sold me on her services when she said she has become an expert purger, paring down a house full of stuff to just a room's worth. Yet that also scares me. Actually, terrifies me probably describes it better. Coming from a family that had very little, it's hard to let go of the stuff I have because I've had to do some work for it. How can I measure how hard I've worked if I don't have anything to show for it? Polly suggested I take pictures of things I love but don't need/use, so I still have proof of them without actually having to move them around. I'm trying to wrap my head around this.

The last time my friend moved, he discovered a few boxes he hadn't touched since his previous move. Instead of opening them, he threw them out. This explains why he doesn't have any pictures of us on trips we took together and has to rely on his mother for proof that he was a small child. That is my worst nightmare.

What I'd really like to do is get rid of my futon, but when I mentioned this to my mother she grilled me on why I would do that when it's so comfortable to sleep on. (Really, she just wants to make sure she has a bed to sleep on at my house; they will not take my bed.) I fear that it will kill me or whomever has the misfortune of moving it; it has threatened and injured me on various occasions. It has lost a few of its screws and likely has a few more screws loose. Ideally I would like to get rid of the frame before the move and get a new frame after the move. I don't know how to make this happen. Anyone want a dangerous futon frame?

So, I'm trying not to let the anxiety from packing, leaving town for a week, and moving to make me a nervous wreck. It isn't going very well.