With the help of my friend, I emptied my storage unit yesterday.
I have this other friend who insists that the very fact of my having a storage unit means I’m a hoarder. I’m not.
“Hoarders always say that,” he says sagely. “You’re in denial.”
Arggh. No, I’m not. Here’s what was in the (mostly empty) unit:
So the drugs are working, because I’ve been wanting to clean that unit out for at least six months. The mental sticking point was the bike which, because it has a big basket attached, is a real pain in the ass to wrangle into the back of an SUV. (My back is now killing me, but hey.)
I’m getting dangerously close to the point where I won’t have anything else hanging over my head and I’ll just have to start writing. Hmm.
Oh, wait. I can start playing the guitar again instead! Whew, that was close.
By the way? Added bonus to getting organized: I now have all my song lyrics in one place. This is no small thing, since I can’t perform without them.